Different Destinies, Constant Fate
by BruisedSmile
Summary: When tragedy strikes, what lengths will Willow go to, to follow her heart? Two universes - one choice that will irrevocably change them both. *UPDATED*
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Life is a funny thing.

Really, our lives are almost entirely out of our control most of the time. Decisions are made for us, paths are picked, and of course the will of other people can affect the courses of our own destinies in ways we could never have foreseen.

The choices we make are like the little brakes we put on life, I guess. Those moments when we try to take back some power, some say on the twists the universe thrusts onto us. When we try to steer the wayward vehicles of our futures, in the general direction we would prefer. We make hundreds of choices every day. That adds up to….well a whole big lot! Most of them are minor, insignificant details that have almost no noticeable effect on the big picture. And most of those we aren't even really conscious of making. They're the little things y'know; like getting up in the morning, deciding to eat breakfast, saying hi to the person we sit next to in work or school. You get the idea.

The truth is, most of our lives are decided for us. It's decided before we are even born, before we learn how to talk, before we decided the people we want to be friends with. It's laid out in how the world works. And you have to accept life and death on their own terms. They're funny like that.

Of course sometimes, as in all games I suppose, there are exceptions. Some anomalies in the system. Unpredictable factors. Some decisions throw your life onto a whole new track of chaos. Sometimes small decisions about who you talk to that day in school can turn into one of the biggest defining choices you'll ever make. And before you know it, your life has taken a path of no-return. An adventure you can't even predict one step ahead, let alone a week.

Some decisions are made for us, and some we make. But almost all the important choices are made with a specific outcome in mind. But like I said, things are very quickly taken out of our hands again.

Some choices haunt you. Some choices define you. Some can break you with their demanded sacrifices. Some trick you, some reward you, and most end up surprising you. I guess it just really matters what you base your big choices on, if you build them on something important to you. And ultimately, what you're prepared to go through.

Mine was a choice I never saw coming. Nothing can ever be set in stone. But then again, there are exceptions.

Love is a funny thing.

_Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense. ~Mark Overby_


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters don't belong to me, but to Joss.

* * *

**Chapter One**

The nearly full moon arched high in the sky over Sunnydale; impossibly large and beautiful. A misty glow that softly illuminated the black canvas all around. The primal powers held within the ghostly sphere were usually cause for reverence and respect, for many different reasons.

Tonight she hated it.

Unsteadily, she moved through the streets of her strange hometown, arms hugged desperately around her slender body; pressed against her rib-cage in a crushing embrace. The small girl gulped in a shallow breath before tightening her hold, as if in danger of physically breaking apart. Every so often she broke into a frantic run, stumbling forward towards nothing, feet slapping noisily against the ground in a clumsy rhythm, until the surge of energy would wane forcing her steps heavy and aimless again.

The air shivered around her with the ceaseless streams that spilled down her young face. She made no move to wipe them away. She could barely see; salty tears bubbled and burst in her drowned eyes and she could not stop them. They could drain her dry for all she cared.

She knew it was there, above her head, gloating from its celestial view; so far away from everything. Untouched, unmoved by the lives of those it watched night after night. It didn't care, how could it know? How could it sit up there, smiling and glowing? It was all wrong! Everything was so, so wrong. How could it know this night it ruled over had seen such cruelty? Insignificant. It was just one more little life; just one girl.

But it was her life. And his.

The moon gazed down at everyone but saw only one. This odd town had seen much death, loss and despair. All were entitled to make the world stop for one night. Frozen in their grief. Allowed for one moment to surrender to the freshly ripped void, before the sun rose and marched on with the rest of their lives. Tonight was hers.

Sparing a glance, Willow looked up at it before she could stop herself. It was mocking her. Them. A fresh sob wrenched out of her chest and she sprinted blindly into the night once more. It was funny: even through everything, Willow had never hated the moon, the night. She was intrigued, sometimes afraid and resentful, but never had it caused such agony. With bitter realisation, she thought how strangely fitting it was that he had been taken in the night. They were all going to be lost to the darkness; one way or another.

Shaking the hair out of her eyes, a sharp pain shot up her neck. She bit down hard on her lip but refused to gasp or cry out.

o0o

"_Will, I'm vending machine bound – can I tempt you with any fruity beverages?"_

_Willow looked up from the ancient pages of something called the Book of Tryakia._ "_No, I'm ok, thanks."_

_Xander nodded before tossing his own book onto the table and jumping up. Willow sighed a little and bowed her head over the yellowing pages again, trying to concentrate on the archaic language scrawled over them. Cryptic warnings, courtesy of Angel, had seen them all frantically trying to dig up helpful how-to-slay notes on a band of vamps calling themselves the Pyerli. So, hence the late-night research party and Xander's compulsive snack getting. Willow grinned fondly at her best friend's sugar packed studying habits. By normal rules, he should be suffering somewhat for his terrible diet. But then, that was one of the perks of being a Slayerette. Nothing kept you fit quite like nightly monster-hunting. _

_Willow glanced up as she heard a body plonk down in front her. _"_Hey," she offered a perky smile to her other best-friend who was settling down to sit cross-legged on the library table._

"_Hi," Buffy smiled back, twirling the thick book she'd carried over from the stacks between her fingers._"_Xander on another Twinkie run?" she remarked, noting the Xander-shaped absence at their table. At Willow's nod, Buffy sighed loudly and opened her book though she barely glanced down at it._ "_I'm getting angsty," she announced after less than a minute of half-hearted studying._

_Willow looked up at the pouting girl next to her. It was a pretty obvious observation to anyone who knew Buffy, even a little bit. The small blonde was fidgety with that after-dark slayer energy._

"_Think I'm going to do a patrol in a few minutes. Sweep by the cemeteries and parks. Hey! Maybe I'll get lucky and I'll run into these guys and then I can just ask them outright – So, what's your deal and how do I kill you? Cause I've found that a stake to the heart works pretty well."_

"_Yeah, but that would take all the fun out of having the most obscure demonology books at hand in the school library. Surely you don't begrudge Giles his research party?" Willow teased. "You know how he lives for these."_

"_Oh definitely. I mean look at him in there -- total party animal." The girls glanced through the office window, where the librarian was hunched over his desk with a look of impossible concentration on his face. Willow giggled._ "_Besides, we all know I lack in the book smarts. You guys research – I slay. Why mess with the natural order? I mean really, having a Slayer studying is like…like having a brain surgeon… landscape your garden or something. Talk about a gross misuse of talents." _

"_Stop that!" Willow admonished sternly. "You do have the smarts! You... just like to devote your energy to other things. Like fighting the forces of Evil and all that. And a certain tall, dark and brooding creature of the night…" The redhead watched with a sly smile as Buffy fought down a grin and tried to look innocent. _

_There was a bang as Xander re-entered the library cradling his purchases._ "_Hey, what ya talking about?" _

_The girls looked up and stifled their laughs as their friend plopped down across from them._ "_Nothing really," Buffy answered with a remarkably composed face. Willow smirked and buried her head back into the almost unintelligible book she had been stuck with. Xander raised his eyebrows, suspecting he was being left out of the loop but deciding if it was girl-chat, especially anything about Angel, he was happy not knowing. Mister lurky-shows up only with cryptic messages of doom-doesn't stick around to help with the research- undead…guy. _

_There had been companionable quiet after that, the flicking of pages and crunch of snacks the only sounds. Until, with a resonating 'thud', Buffy snapped her book shut and dropped it onto the table._

"_Right, that's it. Gotta go kill me some hell creatures or I'll never sleep tonight." The Slayer slid gracefully off the table and stretched._

"_Want me to come with?" Xander offered._

"_Nah, that's ok. You guys should stay and help out Giles since I'm bailing. He does like his research groupies!" She winked at Willow. "Besides, I'll snoop around and check on some sources who might know more about these Pyron guys or whatever."_

"_Pyerli," Willow corrected absently before catching herself. 'Oh god, I really am turning into Giles!' she thought with despair._

"_Yeah, them." Buffy slipped her jacket on. "I'll, you know, tap the underground grape-vine or something."_

_Willow looked up at the blonde knowingly with an amused smile._ '_Angel?' she mouthed over the back of Xander's head._

_Buffy grinned._ "_What? I can multitask! See you guys later."_

_Willow waved as Buffy practically ran to the doors in her eagerness and Xander looked over at her in confusion, certain he had missed something this time. But his friend merely gave an enigmatic smile and returned to her research. 'Girls' he thought resignedly. Despite having two of them for his best friends, he still didn't get it most of the time. It was like they operated some kind of telepathy. _

_After another couple of minutes trying to decipher the first paragraph of the book he had been assigned, Xander gave up. Tossing it onto the table with a disregard for its age that would have made Giles wince, he sighed loudly._ "_I'm gonna get me another book. That one: way outta my league. Maybe you can have a go of it, Will. I think one with more of the gory pictures than the foreign words is for me."_

_He returned a few minutes later with his new discovery._ "_You come across anything in that demon dictionary yet?"_

_Willow shook her head without looking up, still frowning at the pages in her hands. _

"_You know, you're quiet tonight. What's with the mono-syllable-y Will?"_

_Finally looking up to see Xander watching her curiously, eyebrows scrunched together in assessment, she laughed lightly._ "_Nothing Xander! I'm ok, honestly." Willow smiled at her friend affectionately._

_He shrugged. "Well, maybe it's Oz rubbing off on you. Hey-" Xander leaned over the table, a twinkle in his dark eyes. "Maybe that'll mean Oz will start rambling adorably!" _

_He chuckled and shook his head, amused highly by the idea as he leaned back in his chair. "That would be interesting. If not a little unsettling…"_

_With that he returned, somewhat reluctantly, to his demon homework. Willow's smile faded and a frown settled over her face. She sunk back in her seat and cast her eyes down again, but they wouldn't focus on the elaborate lettering. Her gaze darted to the doors. The shadow of anxiety that had been hovering over her all day, swept in again like smog, clouding her mind. She had told Oz about the vamp alert and research party yesterday, and he'd said he'd be here. He was always here for these things now. He was a part of the group; once a Slayerette - always a Slayerette, and all that. It wasn't just that they were involved, he cared. He'd told her. How he felt like he'd been waiting for something, and when he found her and then their little Scooby Gang – it just felt right. Of course, he didn't say it with words so much, but she still knew. That was just how they were. _

_Willow's heart warmed and a silly smile tugged her lips at the thought of her boyfriend. Being in love was, just so--addictive. She; Willow 'you're such a great friend' Rosenberg was in giddy, heart-pounding love with a werewolf. With a __**musician**__! Who would have thought it? Not her, that was for sure. Willow; master of unrequited love - maybe._

_She had thought she'd never get to experience the kind of heart and soul relationship she had watched Buffy and Angel share. After all, that was them. And Buffy was always meant to have a dramatic life so naturally she would have an equally passionate love life. But now, now she finally knew. She hadn't a hopeless clue how she'd got there, but in some twist of fate…she'd somehow managed to find it too._

_And it was a little scary; in a thrilling sort of way. She'd never felt like this before, and couldn't even really say when she had realised it, but she knew it - like she knew her blood-type and her middle name. It was just a fact. A fact of Willow. She would always have frog-fear; Xander was her best friend; she got the highest score in computer class; she loved Buffy like a sister; and she loved Oz in ways that made her tingle and dizzy. _

_A cold wave of worry suddenly washed out the warmth in her chest, as she remembered that he wasn't here. She hadn't actually seen him all day. Taking a deep breath, Willow told herself not to panic too much, Oz often skipped school. What with Dingo gigs and just his laid back approach to academia in general. Forcing her eyes back to the paragraph about a 16__th__ century convent that the Pyerli had reportedly destroyed, Willow tried to concentrate. _

o0o_  
_

* * *

**AN** Welcome :) This story is set around season 3, sometime after the 'fluke' has been resolved. But there's not really any tie-ins with any of the season's arcs. Hope you enjoy the story, and any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated.


	3. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Still not mine

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Choking back tears, Willow finally looked around only to realise she had wandered into the local playground. Dark and deserted; the round-about stood quietly beside the slide that glowed dull silver in the moonlight, as the swings drifted emptily. It didn't seem right somehow. This was meant to be a place of activity. Of shrieking kids, young laughter, teasing and skinned knees. Well, maybe in any other town. Dropping into the nearest swing, she began to absently sway on the long chains. The rhythmic squeak of the rusty metal was soothing and slowly, Willow felt her breathing even out.

She didn't know how long she sat there, feet scuffing through the dirt. Staring at nothing. Feeling nothing. That was kind of how it felt – hollow. Maybe her heart just couldn't hurt anymore because it was no longer in her chest. Crumbled to dust…

Her eyes fell on the round-about a few steps away and she dimly recognised it. That was where Buffy's mum had found those kids. The tragedy that had turned out to be a demonic trick. That had been a strange (not to mention terrifying) couple of days. When her home life had gotten even weirder. After it was over, she'd gained a new perspective on the hidden blessing that was her parents' general indifference to her life. Being almost burned alive could do that to you.

"_Uh, we're here to save you"_

Everyone had been devastated by the murders of those fake-kids. Outraged. United in grief. Would anyone even care now? Would anyone even know? Grieve? Another anonymous victim of the Hellmouth. Just another strange disappearance. Inside, Willow already knew that they would all be unsung heroes in the end. Her jaw tensed. What right did the world have to go on like nothing had happened? How could people sleep in bed with their loved ones when nothing could ever be right again? She knew love could be cruel and Sunnydale was even crueler - but somehow, she had always hoped, believed with naïve optimism, that surely…

A fresh wave of agony crashed through her, ripping at her already torn and raw insides. Willow almost collapsed to the ground, her breath convulsing in her chest. She tightened her grip on the chains as her body shivered and burned. Clearly the moment of feeling empty had passed, as she became acutely aware of every tormented thought and feeling that crowded into her all at once, seeping between the cracks in her heart. She never knew anything could _hurt_ this much. Is this what Buffy had gone through?

Rustling sounded somewhere off the right. She didn't look up. Sunnydale in the middle of the night – probably wasn't anything good. She should run. Shout. Do anything really, rather than sit there like an all-you-can-eat meal. But honestly, Willow couldn't find it in her to care. She only held onto the swing and gave in to the scorching tears.

In a flurry of broken twigs, torn leaves and tangled blonde hair, a frantic Buffy crashed through the undergrowth, before abruptly pulling up. In the silence that followed, the ragged sounds of wretched weeping carried clearly through the children's park. Buffy's eyes widened for a second as she swallowed and slowly approached the lone figure, for who she had been charging all over town for the better part of an hour, trying to find.

"Willow..."

Familiar curtains of messy red fell around the down-turned face, hiding from the concerned Slayer. There was no sign of acknowledgment. Buffy hesitated, torn between not wanting to intrude on her friend's grief and her desire to get her off the street and somewhere safe.

Willow felt a hand brush her shoulder as Buffy knelt down in front of her.

"Will," Her voice cracked and fell away. She could feel the waves of sorrow radiating off her best friend. And there was nothing she could do to make it better. "I'm sorry."

Willow raised her head a few inches and met Buffy's gaze. The Slayer's brow crumpled in heart-felt empathy at the pain burning in her friend's lost eyes. She watched as she opened her mouth only to shut it again as more tears fell in place of the words that wouldn't come.

The night was cool on her wet cheeks but Willow's eyes were hot and the tears warm as they marked fresh tracks on her face.

Buffy leaned forward and held the speechless girl in a fierce hug. When Willow didn't respond, she pulled back slowly, worry etched across her features. "I know…I know how it feels," Buffy spoke tentatively as she squeezed her hand. Still she stayed silent. "You feel like you want to die. Or run away. You feel -- broken. But Will, it - it does get easier. I promise."

Buffy felt her own tears sparkling at the edges of her vision as she heard herself repeat the helpless words. "I-I'm _so_ sorry." She watched as Willow shook her head, trying to form words.

"He...I, I–"

Reaching out she gently touched the side of the fragile face before her, her hand running down the red waves comfortingly. "You didn't have a choice, Will." Regret filled her firm voice. "He was–"

"Don't."

The voice was barely a whisper but it trembled with force as Willow sharply locked eyes with the Slayer. Suddenly standing, she looked down at a slightly startled Buffy, eyes shining.

"Don't say it."

Then she was gone.

Buffy leapt to her feet, but faltered. It was painfully clear Willow wasn't going to let them do anything for her tonight, she was hurting way too much. A conflicted Buffy listened to the sounds of running steps as her best friend disappeared into the night again.

After a moment she frowned and glanced down distractedly at her hand.

Traces of blood glistened on the Slayer's fingers.

o0o

"_Ah-ha!" _

_Willow and Xander looked up at the triumphant exclamation to see Giles standing in the door to the office, looking down at the book in his hand, chewing thoughtfully on the tip of his glasses._

"_Uh, care to share G-man? 'Cause I was kinda in the middle of appreciating this medieval artwork about a circle of very ample virg…ah, uh… hell-beasts?"_

_Willow shot a disapproving look at Xander who smiled sheepishly before abruptly snapping the book shut, more than a little reluctantly. Giles however, seemed to have missed Xander's wandering attention span, for he didn't even comment on the loathed nick-name. Instead he crossed over to the table, eyes still scanning the pages before he looked round at them eagerly. _

"_Here, a Watcher named Hawthorn wrote about a, a vampire sect called Pyer." __Giles placed the diary on the table and Willow peered at the tiny handwriting where he gestured._

"_You think those are our guys?" Xander asked._

"_Yes, I believe so. The descriptions seem to fit the information Angel supplied us." _

_Giles took out a handkerchief and wiped at his glasses absently, as he continued. _"_He, he writes about his Slayer running into them back in 1758 in Nottingham, England. She killed two but the others eluded her. But she survived the fight and he gives good details about her experience. Should prove…very helpful."_

"_Yeah!" Willow beamed enthusiastically at him. "That's great Giles. I mean, if Buffy knows about their fighting style and stuff – she'll be streets ahead of them. Bang-POOF! No problem!" _

_Giles smiled, slightly flustered under the praise. "Yes well, it's a start."_

"_So, does that count as a break-through for tonight?" Xander's voice was hopeful. "Not that I don't love spending quality time with the demon-lore but I'm due to fail an English test tomorrow morning and I want to look my very best" _

"_What?" He exclaimed in response to the looks he was receiving. "Let's face it, good looks are all I have!" He pulled a wounded expression that made Willow stifle a giggle and jab him in the ribs. Xander caught her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, making her stumble as he pulled her into his side. _

"_Xander!" _

"_Come on – you know that's why you fell for me all those years ago!"_

_Willow grinned and nudged him playfully. "Yeah, but it was the Snoopy dance that clinched it! What girl could resist?" _

_Giles watched the two joking teenagers for a moment with a sense of fond pride. They really were remarkable kids. All of them. Not many could witness all the evils Hell had to offer, let alone fight them, and still retain the ability to laugh and find the rare goodness life still held. The librarian cleared his throat, causing the two friends to straighten up and turn their attention to him. _

"_Yes, I think you two can call it a night. Head home and get some rest – thanks so much for your help. I'll- I'll let you know what I can gather out of the diary in the morning…Uh, Buffy?" __Giles trailed off, looking around as he just noticed the petite Slayer was no-where in sight._

"_Patrol," Xander offered. _

_Giles relaxed._ "_Oh, yes. Well I think I'll continue my research at home also. Uh, Xander? Could you just give me a hand taking some volumes out to my car?"_

"_Sure, what's the perk of being young and strong if you can't help out the old and frail?" He announced cheerfully as he followed Giles into the office. Willow could almost hear the Watcher frown and mutter. _

"_Woah, jeez! I guess the art of travelling light wasn't on the syllabus at Watcher Academy, huh?!"_

"_Beg your pardon?"_

"_Seriously, isn't it about time the old Council guys discovered the wonders of electronic documents?! Hey what about a Watcher magazine while you're at it? You'd reach a much larger readership and everything-"_

_Willow smiled to herself as the conversation drifted from the doorway. Finally Xander staggered out._

"_Do you want any help?" She inquired innocently as she__ watched him re-adjust the box in his arms with a grunt._

"_No! No, I can handle it! See you in a minute."_

_When they had left, Willow turned back to the table and began gathering her stuff together. Picking up the books that lay scattered across the surface, she walked up into the stacks to return them to their proper place. She wished she could've found something better in them; she didn't feel like she had been that big of a help tonight. But Giles's discovery should at least point them in the right direction. Maybe she could do some follow up on the net when she got back home. Try to find out what this sect was after in Sunnydale. Willow perked up at the thought._

_The library doors thudded open._

"_That was quick!" Willow called as she popped out from the stacks to meet them. "Hey Xander, do you think--"_

_Willow stopped as her eyes fell upon the familiar figure crossing the library towards her. A wide smile split her face._

"_Oz!" _

_She squealed happily as she hurried down the steps and threw herself into his embrace. _

"_I was getting worried! Did you have a gig today? We're just finishing up here, Xander and Giles—" _

_Willow babbled in relief as she snuggled into her boyfriend's shoulder. When she pulled back to look at him, he quietened her with a finger against her lips. Willow looked at him questioningly, as he regarded her with a cool half-smile. _

"_I missed you too. Come on." _

_He took her hand and Willow let him lead them back up the steps._

"_What's up?" Willow's heart was fluttering. She remembered the last time her and Oz had snuck into the stacks. A warm blush stirred in her cheeks. God, she had missed him. _

"_Is it cold outside?" She felt the chill of his hand in hers and held it tighter, trying to warm him. Oz didn't turn around._

"_Yeah."_

_She followed him amongst the high shelves as they weaved through the towers of Giles's ancient books. He suddenly stopped them and turned to face her in the dim light, reaching out to pull her close to him. She opened her mouth in a question but was rendered speechless as Oz abruptly crashed his lips to hers in a fierce kiss. _

_Taken by surprise by the force of his touch, Willow found herself getting quickly pulled deeper into a kiss that was harder and more demanding than any she had ever experienced with her boyfriend. She dug her fingers into his jacket, feeling more than a little overwhelmed, and trying to keep her balance as Oz overpowered her. He rammed them into the stacks behind her and she winced as the sharp shelves cut into her back. Still the kiss went on. Their bodies pressed tight against each other. Oz's hold was strong and possessive, his fingers digging into her skin. It was intense. _

_And it hurt. _

_Willow attempted to focus through the haze of adrenaline. His hands gripped her tightly as the rough embrace strengthened. This wasn't just passion. This was something different. Oz had never been rough. Willow tried to break the bruising kiss. It tasted like him...but it didn't feel like him, she realised with a rush of icy fear. She pushed against his chest, dizzy and breathless. She needed air. _

_And with a sickening dread, she suddenly saw -- that he didn't._

_Finally she felt him pull back, though the pressure of his body still pinned hers. She watched with wide eyes, her chest heaving with heavy breaths, as he opened his eyes and smiled. Willow felt a fist clamp around her heart at the sight. _

"_O-Oz?"_

_She couldn't bring herself to believe…No. Not him. Please. She searched his face, desperate and pleading. He smelled like her Oz, his clothes were Oz, his hair was the same shade of purple it had been yesterday...but...he wasn't the same. His pale face was even whiter than usual; his half-smile had a cruel lift to it that had never been there before. Inside, Willow was still screaming in denial, until she looked into his eyes once more. His beautiful, intelligent green eyes were glowing with a lustful hunger that made Willow feel sick to her stomach with grief. _

"_Oz -- please…" _

_She knew. She wished to God she didn't. Wanted more than anything to ignore everything she'd read, seen, fought, all the knowledge that made the truth inescapable. Why him?! Willow found she could do nothing; couldn't move. His face was inches from hers, and she didn't want to look away. She couldn't bring herself to break his gaze; despite the freezing fear that was crawling up her spine._

"_How?" she whispered._

_Oz shrugged._ "_Got jumped last night." _

_His response was as casual as if she had simply asked about band practice. She pushed back a shudder at the voice she knew so well but refused to recognise._

"_I'm-I'm sorry."_

_The broken words were perhaps the most pathetically inadequate she had ever spoken. Willow looked into her boyfriend's face as he smiled slowly._

"_Don't be. I thought just having the wolf inside gave me extra strength, but now…" He grinned darkly, Willow's gut twisted painfully. "The power combined -- it's quite a buzz, Will. I could get used to it."_

_They were still so close together. Lovers in intimate conversation; not a demon and his victim. _

"_Maybe…maybe we can fix this. Undo it, or a spell or something!" Willow babbled desperately, clinging to vain hope – to anything. She couldn't lose him. She pleaded with the demon inside to let him live. _

_He only smirked at her with Oz's poisoned smile. He knew. So did she._

"_I-I love you, Oz." There was nothing else left to say. She felt her heart pour into each last painful word as she whispered them between the dark stacks. _

"_I know." His voice was soft as he held her stricken gaze. For one moment, Willow saw a glimmer of the boy who'd been lost. _

"_That's why I came to you first tonight."_

_He ran black tipped fingers through her silky hair, toying with the red strands. Willow shivered at his cold touch. The hunger glinted in his eyes as he leaned in closer to her warm, pulsing skin. Her scent was intoxicating. He needed her. He always had. Willow's heart raced. The demon growled in anticipation._

_Willow's fingers slid along the shelf behind her._

"_Eternity, Will. You'll never be alone." He breathed low next to her ear.  
_

_A tear slipped down her cheek. _

"_Oz…"_

_With a snarl she felt his face change. In one movement Willow swung the heavy book around, and felt the crush of impact as it smacked into the side of his head. The unexpected blow sent him staggering, and Willow clumsily dropped the thick book and ran before she could think. She didn't dare look behind her as she burst out of the row of stacks and flew down the steps. Ahead of her, she saw the doors open again as Giles re-entered the library. _

"_Willow! What—"_

"_Giles!" Willow yelled as she crashed into him, her eyes wild and terrified. He caught her and tried to calm her, but she was frantic and gripped his arms urgently. _

"_Giles – its Oz!" _

"_Wha- Oz? What about- what's happened?" _

_Giles's worried gaze swept over the distraught girl in front of him, as he tried to get a grasp on this new situation. Something was obviously terribly wrong. _

_Willow shook her head, tears sparkling in her eyes, and glanced fearfully over her shoulder._

"_He's--"_

_Both were distracted however when a figure emerged from the stacks. Willow spun around and froze. Giles observed with slight confusion as Oz stood casually at the railing. He seemed fine. But then…Giles's eyes widened in horror as the boy leapt over the balcony in one fluid movement and landed on his feet with inhuman ease. _

"_No..." _

_He could feel Willow shaking beside him. His heart sank into his knees as he watched the boy stroll closer to them, his corrupted vamped features clearly visible, and fixed on them. _

"_Willow – go!" Giles shouted, not taking his eyes off the approaching figure. The vampire snarled and charged for them. Giles only just managed to push Willow out the way before he and Oz went crashing to the floor. The small boy was frighteningly strong and dragged Giles to his feet, before hurling him over the library counter._

"_Giles!"_

_He heard Willow yell his name and the Watcher struggled to get back up, grimacing with the splitting pain that ran all along his side where he had struck the hard floor. _

"_Willow! What—Oz?!!" _

_Xander. Giles fumbled for a stake amongst the weapons and clutter that had fallen to the floor behind the counter in his tumble. They had to end this, now. They owed him that.  
_

_Xander was in shock. Shouts from the library could never be good but he thought he had wandered into a twisted nightmare when he'd bolted through the doors. Willow on the floor, scrambling to get away from—Oz? Only it wasn't. Xander felt anger shoot through his veins as the creature that looked like their friend leant over her, fangs flashing, a hungry growl ripped out his throat as he yanked her up, pulling her head to his mouth, he was really going to…_

_Xander threw himself on top of the vampire and with every bit of strength in him, flung him off Willow as hard as he could. The creature rolled and with an angry snarl got to his feet, just as Xander pulled Willow to hers._

"_Will-"_

_She looked terrible. He couldn't blame her, but they had no time to recover as Oz lunged for Xander. His movements were almost animal. It made sense in a way, it was almost the full moon and Oz was clearly more able to call on his primal hunting nature now. No more conflict. Just a mutual co-operation between two curses. _

_Xander dodged and pulled Willow behind him as they circled back around the room towards the big table. _

"_Oz, man – you don't want to do this!" He knew it was probably a lost cause, but he was hoping he could stall for some time. It was pretty much his strongest defence tactic._

_Oz just glared at Xander with deep loathing. It was almost, what? Jealousy. He wanted Willow and Xander was in the way. She was his. Yellow eyes flashed and a vicious growl rumbled through the air._

"_Xander-look out!!"_

_He wasn't fast enough this time, and Oz collided into him. Hard. Xander kicked out and caught him on the jaw. Oz grabbed onto his shirt and hauled him up, slamming his head down against the table. Willow screamed as Xander slumped to the floor. _

_This couldn't be happening. This was Oz. He was their friend. He cared about them, a member of the Scooby Gang. Oz…her boyfriend. Willow dumbly looked back to see the vampire now wearing his face approaching her. Stumbling, she backed up until she banged into the book cage. _

_Where Oz spent his wolfy nights… _

_Over his shoulder Willow glimpsed Giles creeping up. Her eyes widened slightly and in that moment, Oz spun around and tackled the Watcher. Giles slammed a cross in his face and Oz snarled, shrinking back for a moment before he lashed out and latched onto his arms, twisting them brutally until the crucifix slipped from the librarian's grip. _

"_Willow – run! Get…Buffy!" Giles gasped out as he grappled with the smaller boy. The stake dropped and skidded across the floor as Oz caught his fist and spun him round to slam the Watcher into the wall. _

_A low groan from the table distracted the vampire and it whirled round to see Xander stirring. In a split second he closed the distance to the boy and bent down to finish what he started. The thrill of the hunt and kill was exhilarating, no doubt extra honed thanks to his wolf instincts. His mouth curved up in a smile. It felt liberating to give in to his animal side, it really was an asset. The power was incredible. _

_Blood-lust flashed in his feral eyes. _

"_Oz."_

_At the sound of her voice, Oz turned round to find Willow's eyes burning into his. He watched as she took a few shaky steps towards him. _

"_Leave Xander." _

_Her voice was soft, almost calm and her eyes never left his. Slowly, she raised a hand and pulled down the collar of her shirt, exposing the pale curve of her bare neck._

"_You want me."_

_The demon growled with desire. He dropped Xander and went to her, closing the space between them impossibly fast. He grabbed her trembling body roughly into his embrace. The scent of her fear was arousing, yet she was giving herself to him. He heard her sharp cry as his fangs pierced the creamy skin and slid into her flesh. A muffled moan escaped him as her warm blood filled his mouth and slipped down his throat. She was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. He grasped her closer and drank deeply. She would be his forever now. _

_Willow struggled to catch her breath amidst the searing pain that was shooting through her, and shifted slightly in his hold. From the moment he had walked into the library, she had been lost – blinded in relief, confusion, denial and fear. She hadn't been able to think straight, to fight or protect herself as she knew she could. But she knew she was thinking clearly now. Even if it was just for a moment. Her hand twisted and thrust forward. _

_She winced as Oz jerked back from her neck. Their eyes met for a single moment. His full of lust and confusion; hers brimming with tears as she soaked in the feeling of his embrace, for the final time. Then he was gone; crumbled into clouds of dust that floated down lazily in front of her. Giles's stake slipped from numb fingers and clattered to the floor at Willow's feet._

_She stared at the empty air where he'd just been. Fresh blood ran down her neck, hot and sticky._

_He was gone._

_Oz was gone._

_It hit with a single split through her heart. Willow sunk to the ground, all strength deserted. Anguished sobs broke and shook her body violently as she curled up amongst Oz's ashes. All that was left of him. Her cries echoed round the quiet room, up and down the empty school, as she wept and mourned and was lost to inconsolable grief. Salty streams dripped off her face and fell into the dust that surrounded her. She whispered his name hopelessly, continuing to shudder and tremble with the force of the tears. She felt her eyes stinging, her skin tingled and a thunderous headache set in -- but she couldn't stop. _

_She clenched fistfuls of ash. _

"_I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry!" She gasped quietly between choking sobs. She'd...killed him. She'd killed Oz. He was dead. Willow's lungs burned, she couldn't breathe._

o0o_  
_

_She didn't know how long she lay there, in a wrecked heap on the floor. She didn't hear Xander and Giles get up and slowly walk over. _

_The Watcher felt his heart break for the devastated young girl before him. His own grief over Jenny echoed from across his memory. He wouldn't have wished that on anyone. And they were so young. They didn't deserve this. Not Willow. She was always so strong and bright. Full of goodness and light, with so much potential. Truly, the best of them._

_And she had saved them tonight. But he couldn't help but wonder, at what cost. His chest tightened at the sight of her raw despair, and Giles wondered if they would ever see their Willow again._

_Xander didn't know what to do. He'd never seen his best friend in so much pain. He'd only just been coming round when he heard her break down in tears. His eyes drifted to the ash that covered the ground._ _Oz. _

_Willow was rocking back and forth; the sound of her sobs tore at his insides. Xander fell down beside her and pulled her into a hug._

"_Will..." He stroked her hair and mumbled in ear, trying to ease her hurt if only a fraction. Offering any comfort he could to her broken form._

_Willow moaned quietly in his embrace, and struggled against him._

"_No!" With a shove she pushed herself away from Xander. She stumbled to her feet and took off. She slammed through the swinging doors; tears streaming down her face, as she ran blindly through the school._

"_WILLOW!" _

_Xander made a break for the doors, but was stopped by Giles._

"_Giles! What are you doing? We need to go after her – she can't be out on the streets alone at night!"_

"_Leave her Xander." The Watcher spoke firmly, though the young man's gaze was insolent. _

"_I am NOT leaving her out there by herself!"_

"_She doesn't want us near her at the moment."_

"_I DON'T CARE!" _

_Xander had just seen his best friend attacked by her boyfriend-turned-vampire, she was devastated and vulnerable and he would be damned if he left her to fend for herself on the streets of Sunnydale after that. His protective-friend setting was on overdrive._

"_Xander!" _

_Giles almost shouted in his tiredness. He tried to gather his patience, they were all on edge._

"_I agree she needs someone looking out for her. But we're not equipped to do it." He gave the teenager a meaningful look. "Call Buffy."_

o0o_  
_

_She heard Xander yell her name but she didn't stop running. She needed to get out. Willow knew Xander meant well, but she just didn't want anyone touching her. The only person she wanted to wrap her in their arms, who could make it alright, was scattered across the library floor. _

_He would never hold her close. Not ever again. Never run his fingers through her hair, like he loved to do. Never get to make her laugh or smile when she babbled. She'd never hear him play his music; hold his hands; see his warm eyes light up when he looked at her. He'd never comfort her; she'd never fall asleep beside him again. She'd never hear his voice; he'd never kiss her…_

_Oz was gone._

o0o_  
_

* * *

**AN** I have to admit, this scene was a lot of fun to write! Is it very wrong to enjoy torturing your characters? Oh well.

Poor Willow. Cheer her up and leave a review! Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Willow walked through the dark empty house, more than usually relieved that her parents were away. She shut her bedroom door behind her and let her body slump against the solid wood. Blinking blearily, she took in the cold room.

What was she supposed to do now?

Blinding moonlight shone brazenly through her patio windows. Couldn't it just leave her alone?! Willow crossed the room angrily and glared at the indifferent orb.

They had always tried to spend his last night before the full moon cycle together. Her shoulders twitched with futile effort as she attempted to ward off the flash of memories. Sitting out on her porch quietly, feeling the pull of the coming nights bearing down on them. But it had been so peaceful.

o0o

"_Does it scare you?"_

_Oz was quiet for a moment as he continued to idly stroke her hair. Considering; as was his way. He answered slowly. _

"_Yes" _

_He pulled her slightly closer, his voice low and calm as they watched the night sky._ "_The wolf is such a dark place. Feeling that darkness take control—it's not fun"_

_He felt her squeeze their joined hands as they lay entwined across her stomach. His breath caught; his body tensing almost inperceptibly. She was so warm against him; her beautiful scent filled the air. It was almost painful to be around her just before the moon, his wolf senses were so heightened, his desire was that much harder to control. He could hear her heart beating, feel her breath. Her touch sent shivers along his skin, feeding the wolf's growl in his chest. _

_Oz closed his eyes and took a long breath. He wouldn't have it any other way though. _

"_I worry about you."_

_He smiled and opened his eyes at her voice. _

"_I know. I do too. Getting out, hurting someone. Hurting you…"_

_He leant his cheek against her hair; drinking in the feel of her. He could never tell her how much that fear clawed at him, haunted his nightmares, and consumed his thoughts. She was everything to him. The thought of losing her; of letting himself destroy her…_

_Oz was drawn from his thoughts as he felt her shift in his arms. Willow turned her head and captured his lips with her own. The kiss was gentle and loving, and Oz felt his heart pulse wildly. He combed his fingers through her hair and deepened the kiss, craving her taste. Willow pulled his other hand further round her waist and settled into his embrace. He smiled against her lips. Did she know what she did to him?_

_His touch was tender but insistent as he drew her closer. His Willow. Perfect freeze frame every time. The heat continued to build dangerously between them, and a small growl rumbled in his throat. Oz broke the kiss reluctantly. They pulled back and looked at each other, breathing heavily. Willow smiled warmly at him, her hand running slowly up and down his arm. Oz stared into her face, brushing soft red hair behind her ear. God, she was so beautiful. He silently thanked, for the hundredth time, whatever stars had aligned to bring Willow into his life. _

"_I wish there was something I could do"_

_Oz pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. _

"_Just be here" _

_She smiled that dazzling smile; her eyes twinkling._

"_Always."_

o0o

Willow swept the curtain across harshly, blocking out the taunting moon. But it was no use. Everything around her whispered memories. All the hours they had shared together had soaked into the room; his presence still lingered.

The grieving girl moved slowly, trailing her fingers along the surfaces; as if trying to draw some strength from the faint traces of his touch. At her desk, Willow stopped. Slowly she pulled a bumpy object out from amongst the books next to her lap-top. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry as the cackling, green-skinned, crooked nose, Pez-witch grinned up at her. She ran a finger lightly over her pointy hat. Oz always gave her such quirky presents.

"_Well, I think about you"_

With a sharp gasp, Willow dropped the Pez as if scalded. Her chest shuddered, her mind splintering into pieces that made her body jerk as she turned and threw herself onto the bed; crushed under the grief that overwhelmed her system once more. Fresh sobs attacked her insides, making her curl up tight against the pain. She gripped the covers with white knuckles and cried her heart out.

Willow buried herself amongst the tauntingly familiar smell of Oz that lingered on the bed- clothes. She pulled them to her, trying to lose herself in the memories. When they'd stayed up all night talking, after he'd forgiven her for the 'fluke' with Xander. Where they'd fallen asleep those times after a late research session. Where she'd first heard him say it.

o0o

_Willow was mumbling in her sleep. _

_He smirked at the sleeping red-head and slid an arm around her waist._

_They'd come back to her house after patrolling with Buffy and Xander. It had been quite eventful. Buffy had taken out five vamps; Xander got a concussion for his trouble and Oz had quite an impressive bruise down his shoulder. Willow seemed to have gotten away with only scrapes and slight bruises thankfully. The daylight spell she had been working on had proved effective. Oz remembered her glowing palm as she threw a ball of pure light at the vamp that had cornered her, setting him ablaze. She'd looked so surprised. After they had helped Xander to his feet and confirmed he was ok, as indicted by his colourful grumbling, the Scoobies split up for the night. Willow was buzzing all the way back in his van. Her hands waved in emphatic gestures as she explained to him in great detail what the spell involved and, she eagerly informed him, in time it should be strong enough to incinerate the vamps on contact. He listened as she babbled adorably in her excitement, his chest warm with pride. He was glad she was gaining confidence with her magic, but he couldn't shake the persistent worry that lurked in the back of his mind. The spell had exhausted her, he could tell. _

_He knew her parents were out of town again. But he never presumed. After walking with her to the famaliar door, he kissed her goodnight and turned to leave. Willow held onto his hand and stopped him._

"_Stay?"_

_He looked into her face for a long moment._

"_If that's what you want"_

_She blushed and looked down. "It's just…well, I like sleeping next to you"_

_Oz cupped her face and gave his half-smile that made her stomach tingle. _

"_Mutual"_

_It had become a common habit for them. Willow crawled under the covers in her pyjama bottoms and one of his shirts that she had borrowed a while ago and he'd never asked for back. Oz slept in his clothes. Now, as he watched her sleeping beside him in the quiet night, she took his breath away all over again. Oz was convinced he had fallen for her the moment he had seen her face peeking out from that Eskimo suit at the Bronze. He could have mistaken it for infatuation, up until the moment he had seen that bullet heading in her direction. Pure instinct. That was the only way to describe it; what drove him to protect her at all costs; what he felt whenever she was close. He didn't know if it was partly the wolf or just him, but Oz knew what Willow was to him._

_Something had finally clicked in his life when she and the others had come into it. Sometimes Oz couldn't believe he was a part of something so big, that he got to fight for something so important; hell, he got to help save the world. That was pretty cool._

_Oz looked down at the girl dreaming so close to him. He brushed her cheek as softly as he dared, unwilling to wake her. This girl who was so full of love she even wanted to be with a werewolf. His fingers gently swept a few stray strands of hair away from her face; his lips quirked up as he remembered that day in the school courtyard. _

_He knew. He'd always known._

_He looked into her closed eyes, felt her steady breath from her slightly parted mouth. Her warmth and smell brought his guard crashing down._

"_I love you"_

_The whisper was low, intimate and achingly sincere._

_He would never have known that Willow had stirred at his light touches. Never known she was lying contentedly half-aware, as she waited for deep sleep to sweep in again. Never have known how her heart sped at his words; how tingles trembled through her body; how her mind danced with happiness. He'd never have known; if not for the small smile that pulled at her lips. _

_He watched with slight trepidation as her eyes blinked open and focused on him, her green gaze shining brightly._

"_I love you too, Oz" she murmured sleepily._

o0o_  
_

Eventually, Willow's tears slowed and quiet gradually returned to the room. She wiped her flushed cheeks and tried to sit up, feeling light-headed and slightly sick.

Would it ever stop hurting?

Buffy had said it got easier. But it was different for her – she got Angel back, didn't she? He could still be there for her. She never had to get over him, not really. Willow's stomach turned at the thought. She didn't want to get over Oz; didn't want to forget or get used to a life without him.

Why him?! The crippling unfairness of everything hit her like a physical blow to the heart, knocking the air out of her. The Hellmouth could only take so much from people, before they broke. It had taken Jesse; it had taken Miss Calendar; it had even taken Buffy from them for a short time. Along with countless others. How could she have been stupid enough to believe that she would get to be happy? Something was always going to tear them apart. How was it fair that those on the front lines fighting the darkness were always the first ones to be lost to it? Something up there had a hell of a lot of explaining to do. Willow had spent the last few years wanting to help Buffy fight the evil that was lurking everywhere, that she hadn't even been aware of before. It was Buffy's destiny but it was Willow's choice. She chose this. So did Xander. And Oz. Willow hadn't been lying when she had said it was a good fight and she wanted in. But, she just-- she wanted Oz more.

His face fell to ash before her...

Willow closed her eyes and shook the image out of her head. Glancing over, her gaze fell on the framed picture by her bed. The day they had gone to the pier. Picking it up, she held the photo in her hands and looked down at the smiling couple.

It had been strange hanging out with Xander and Cordelia; forget vampires and slayers - _that_ was the weirdest hook-up Willow was sure she'd ever witness. Yet, it had still been a wonderful day. Of course those two had spent the whole time bickering and making out respectively, but it was a surprisingly fun double date. She had never seen the ice-queen she had come to know, appear so relaxed. She and Xander had been happy. A ghost of a smile flickered over Willow's face. They had been good together, in a strange-but-true kind of way. She remembered that day in the bright colours of smiles, laughter and kisses. Everything Hell-related had felt so far away from their lives. For once, they were just friends hanging out and kids in love.

Willow traced a finger over his face. His then-blonde hair caught the sun and contrasted against her blazing red. He was looking away from the camera, nuzzling into her neck with a smile on his face, his arm looped around her waist casually. Willow gazed down at the girl in the picture, as she tugged on his bowling shirt, trying to pay attention to the camera but laughing at whatever he was whispering in her ear.

"_You didn't have a choice Will"_

Willow swallowed hard and gripped the frame tightly. Didn't she?

No. She'd had a choice. Not a good one, but she had a choice. He'd given her one.

And she'd been tempted.

For a long moment, she had wanted to let him. Willow had wanted to surrender to the demon that had taken him away from her, and go there with him. In a heart-beat she had imagined dying in his arms, letting his blood slip down her throat and steal her soul. Just to wake up with him again. A chance to stay together.

But she just couldn't. Willow had spent too long fighting monsters, seen too much light give way to darkness. She had fought to stop the vampires from taking over the town, and so had Oz. That creature in the library wasn't her boyfriend; she had to keep telling herself. No matter how her heart ached to be with him, Willow knew that Oz wouldn't want that. He had always protected her. He fought with them to kill the demons; she couldn't turn her back on that. Even when he...she knew she couldn't let herself give in. It would have been so easy. So easy to let him drink until she couldn't feel the pain anymore. But she knew in her heart what she had to do and was resolved to give him the peace he deserved. Willow flinched at the memory.

After all, Willow had seen for herself the path that darkness would take her to. She shuddered at the thought of her doppelganger who had briefly shared this dimension with her. Willow vamped, was not a good. She was full of evil and cruelty, everything they stood against. Not to mention--kind of a slut. She couldn't let herself be turned into something so dark; lose everything that made her who she was. Not even for Oz.

With a jerk she suddenly sat up straight. She frowned, her mind whirring at dizzying speeds. Oz had told her about Vamp Willow at the Bronze. They'd spent that night together, curled up on her bed. Oz had barely let go of her since they left the club, his tight grip on her hand revealing the extent of his relief. They had talked for hours until Willow had fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence, the excitement of the evening a bit too much. But now, she remembered. She remembered what he'd said her counter-part had replied when he'd spoken to her. Hadn't she called him a 'white cap' or something? She had recognised him. That meant he existed in her reality and was a good guy there too.

Willow's heart was racing. Was it even doable? It would require some pretty intense magic. Stuff she may not be able to handle. She started to slide off the bed, aiming for her books, but stopped._ Should_ she do it?

That was a whole other question. And Willow already knew the answer. It was stupid, risky and selfish. She had no right to go barging into another reality just because her own heart was broken. How could she leave her friends? Her future here?

A future without Oz.

Tears welled behind her eyes, her heart crunching in familiar agony. No. No, she couldn't lose him. Willow got off the bed and started pulling through her books. Looking for something. Anything. Grief burned through her, infusing her with focus and desperation.

She loved him.

o0o


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Xander was pacing.

Giles kept a weary eye on the teenager from his place at the table. "Xander, you're giving me a headache."

The boy glanced sharply at him. "Something's wrong. I know it is. I should have gone after her!"

Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead tiredly. It was still sore from being knocked into the wall. He understood Xander's agitation; he was worried about Willow too but it wouldn't do any of them any good for him to go charging off into the night.

"Buffy should be back soon. Try not to wear a hole in my floor."

Xander shot the librarian a dirty look and slouched off to sulk on the steps.

There was uneasy quiet for a short time; both men too tense to talk unnecessarily. Xander couldn't get Willow's face, as she stared at the demon that had been Oz, out of his head. He clenched his fists. He was going to personally hunt down the vamps responsible for killing his friend and destroying Willow, he decided forcefully. He still couldn't believe that Oz was dead. The laconic, guitar-playing werewolf who he had once asked for advice on how to be cool. Xander felt a guilty twinge as he remembered how suspicious he had been of Oz when he first got together with Willow. A big part of that was jealousy he now realised, as he remembered the 'fluke' with an even bigger guilt twinge. But despite the bumps on the road and the jealousy that had flown both ways at points in the past, Xander had liked the quiet boy. He was a cool guy, a good person and he treated Willow with obvious love and devotion, that it made it impossible for Xander not to respect him. The two boys had managed to form a cordial friendship, with Xander often volunteering for Oz-watch when Willow couldn't make it. It had been nice to have another guy in the group, he acknowledged with pained sadness. He couldn't imagine what Willow was going through.

This night officially sucked.

He looked up abruptly as the library door swung open. _'Ah, speaking of no-good vamps…' _Xander thought bitterly as Angel strode in. Giles stood up to greet the vampire, but Angel spoke before he could.

"Buffy not back yet?" he asked, eyes sweeping over the room.

"Uh, not unless she's added invisibility to her Slayer powers," Xander muttered sarcastically from the steps. Angel ignored him and turned to Giles who was cleaning his glasses with focused anxiety.

"No, uh, I take it you didn't stay together then?"

"We split up to cover more ground."

Giles nodded and moved away back to the books spread across the table. He had spent the last couple of hours furiously researching the Pyerli, in a futile attempt to occupy his mind and distract himself from the horror action replay that wouldn't stop running in his head. Oz's face…Willow's screams…

Angel cleared his throat awkwardly. "Buffy…told me what happened. I'm sorry."

Xander snorted quietly from the corner and didn't look up. Giles turned around but didn't quite meet his eye. He inclined his head in acknowledgment before quickly sitting down and burying his nose in the books.

Angel watched them for a moment before moving away to a dark corner to wait for Buffy. He was sincere in his words. He had always had soft spot for the shy, intelligent redhead, with her nervous babbling and determined courage. She was a source of such light and kindness. Angel loathed to admit that it was the reason he had been gunning for her when he was Angelus. The pleasure in ruining something so innocent was a hell of a rush, and it was an added bonus that her death would have fractured the group and crippled Buffy.

He knew what she meant to Buffy, to all of them. She had restored his soul; he owed the young witch a lot. Angel had seen and done a lot of terrible things in his long un-life. He had seen the faces of a lot of people confronted with their loved ones, who he had killed or turned into demons like him. It had thrilled him as Angelus; it sickened him as Angel. But being forced to kill the one you love was devastation unlike anything else. He'd seen it in Buffy's eyes. A humourless smile came to his face at the memory. Angel had empathised with the werewolf. He knew what it was like to have that darkness inside, knowing you could so easily hurt the person most important to you. Oz had been a good guy, from what he'd seen. He didn't deserve this. No-one did.

The doors opened again and three heads jerked up to see the Slayer stride into the room, her face worried and determined at the same time.

Xander immediately leapt to his feet. "Did you find Willow? Is she alright?"

Buffy stood in front of the table and faced all of them. "Yeah, but she didn't want company. She's safe though; I followed her at a distance and saw her get home."

Giles nodded, relieved. Xander relaxed a tiny bit.

"How was she?"

She looked at Xander and saw her pain echoed in his eyes. "As you'd expect I guess. Completely destroyed." Buffy's voice was small and her gaze dropped to the ground. "I've…I've never seen her like this. She's…" Buffy trailed off; the memory of Willow's sorrow still burned her. A grief she recognised well, she knew how far deep it could go. But even though Buffy knew better than anyone what her best friend was going through, there was nothing she could do to help her. Nothing would fix this. The feeling of helplessness swept over Buffy, shaking her to her core.

She felt Angel move over and embrace her. She folded into his arms and let him hold her, grateful for one moment when she didn't have to be strong. He stroked her back and Buffy allowed her feelings to overwhelm her for a minute; to soak in the true horror of this night and take comfort in her lover's arms. She didn't cry; there would be time for that later. Right now she was the Slayer and Willow's friend, and there was something else to deal with.

"Are you okay?"

Angel spoke low in her ear as he slowly released her. Buffy smiled in thanks and he understood her response. She turned back to Giles and Xander to see them looking uncomfortable. "Guys, I need you to tell me what happened."

Giles nodded solemnly and took off his glasses to compulsively clean them as he recounted everything he had witnessed since he re-entered the library. Xander chimed in his section of the story, taking care to emphasise how painful getting one's head smashed into a table was. Angel subtly rolled his eyes at the boy's whining.

"When I came to, Willow had…"

Buffy nodded as Giles finished the sorry tale. She looked at them both carefully and hesitated before asking her next question. The words clogged in her throat, but she knew she had to tell them. "Did...Did you know he bit her?"

"_WHAT?!_"

Buffy winced as Xander exploded. Giles looked slightly sick.

"He_ bit_ her?!" Xander was somewhere between outrage and self-loathing. He should have protected her. A vampire had fed on Willow. She'd been hurt and he hadn't noticed. It was his fault. He fell into a chair.

Buffy glanced at Angel, who was looking thoughtful.

"I didn't-I didn't see. I was out of it…" Xander was muttering to himself, his head in his hands.

Buffy swallowed the fear that was rising in her chest. "Giles, what I wanted to ask was…well, Oz is – _was_ – a werewolf…"

She saw Xander sit bolt upright, his eyes wide. He hadn't even considered that horrifying twist. Buffy left the question hanging and looked to the Watcher who was frowning.

'_Any bite or scratch…'_

Giles tried to remember any relevant information from his vast knowledge to offer an answer. He dimly recalled reading something similar to this, but he was having a hard time concentrating. Frantic thoughts of Willow kept barging into his head and churning his emotions. Her broken weeping form flashed through his mind. She was already in so much pain; the thought of her having to suffer with a life-changing curse, another burden -- was unbearable.

"I-I'm not sure. I think…"

"No."

Everyone turned to the firm voice that had interrupted.

"Angel?" Buffy took a step towards him.

He looked at her with a small smile before addressing the group, who were waiting with impatient attention for further elaboration. "Oz was a vampire when he bit her. He was technically dead. The lycanthropy curse can only be passed on when the infected is alive."

Buffy felt slightly staggered by the relief that coursed through her. She had to restrain herself from throwing her arms around Angel and kissing him right there in the middle of the library. Xander had slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"Thank god," he murmured to the ceiling. Willow wasn't cursed. She'd be ok. Well, as much as they could hope for.

Giles sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yes, yes that's right" As soon as Angel spoke, he had remembered reading that fact when he was researching lycanthropy, back when Oz had first been affected. "Yes, the vampire still caries all the effects of lycanthropy same as when they were human – a vampire werewolf hybrid if you will - quite terrifying in its own right. But the curse loses its ability to be transmitted when the body dies. Even if it is re-animated by the demon."

"I won't ask how you knew that," Buffy muttered to Angel as she briefly clasped his hand. They shared a private smile, before she turned back to the others. "What, what do we do about Willow?"

Giles looked up at her and then at Xander. "Well, I think we give her time tonight. She's been through a terrible ordeal. But I think you two should, should call round and check on her tomorrow."

Xander looked like he was about to object, but Buffy beat him to it.

"Giles, I'm not sure we should leave her alone for too long. She's worse than I've ever seen her…I'm worried about her."

Xander nodded in earnest agreement.

"I understand that." The Watcher looked into their concerned faces with empathy. "But it's late and you're all exhausted. She won't thank anyone for the company. Willow needs some time to come to terms with her loss. Give her tonight. She'll need us all in the morning."

Buffy frowned but slowly nodded. She remembered how she craved being alone after Angel. But at the same time, she was aware of what impulsive decisions people in deep grief could make. Just look at her; she'd skipped town for three months and went to Hell and back. But this was Willow. Even devastated she wouldn't do anything rash. Right? The lost look in her friend's eyes flashed through her mind. Buffy made a mental note to drop in on her at first light.

Xander was grumbling, but grudgingly agreed.

"Well, I think everyone should head home, get some rest. It…It's been a long night."

Xander laughed mirthlessly at the understatement. Giles bid them a subdued good night and disappeared into his office to gather his things.

"Walk you home?" Angel spoke quietly to Buffy, nodding towards Xander to indicate he was included in the invitation. Buffy smiled in gratitude, she wanted to make sure Xander got home safely.

"Thanks. Just give us a minute?"

Angel nodded and vanished silently towards the doors.

Buffy walked over to the boy who was getting up from the table. The two friends looked at each other for a moment before moving to grasp the other in a tight hug. They stayed like that for a long while; comforting and being comforted.

"She'll be alright," Buffy whispered into his shoulder.

She felt him nod against her.

"She has to be." Xander's voice was shaky, as he tried to make himself believe his words.

o0o

Willow lit the last candle and looked around. The flickering light from the two dozen flames cast eerie shadows in the dark room as they carved two interconnecting circles of fire that took up most of her floor. She had been forced to push her bed back and off to the side to create the space. She brushed the back of her hand over her flushed forehead, sweeping aside strands of damp hair. The frenetic preparation of the past few hours, as well as the overbearing heat created by the candles, was making her temperature run uncomfortably high. Casting a critical eye over the burning circles, Willow bit her lip in thought. She'd run out of her supply at sixteen and had to scrounge the remaining candles from around the house and even had to resort to tea lights. She hoped it wouldn't affect the spell. She looked down at the book in her hands and made a conscious effort to exhale fully.

The spell was old. _Very _old. It called on incredibly ancient magic, pulled on the very energy of existence that flowed through everything and demanded huge sacrifice from the caster. Willow knew this was recklessly dangerous, that she was messing with powers she had no clue how to handle. But she was more determined than ever; the sorrow in her heart wouldn't let her rest. If there was any chance…

She sat down carefully in the petal shaped space where the two circles of candles overlapped on her bedroom floor. The rough stone bowl sat calmly in front of her, patiently waiting. She picked up the photo from the spine of the book on her lap, softly running the pad of her thumb over the single face within, before sliding the picture into the water. This was going to require all her concentration. And then some.

Willow closed her eyes and drew in a long steadying breath, the tips of her fingers flexed around the thick gilded paper. There was no room for doubt in her mind anymore, every thought was focused on the task. On him. She knew what could happen to her if they didn't think her love was true; if it wasn't enough.

She opened her eyes and looked down at the pages before her and began to recite. The strange lost language rolled off her tongue with the fluidity of practice. The air inside the fire pulsed and swelled as it greedily soaked in every word. The electrifying buzz Willow usually felt when she performed magic seemed insignificant this time. She felt the air sting hot and freezing against her skin but she didn't glance away from the words. Fear tingled along the edges of her mind, but she pushed forward -- she couldn't stop now. She didn't want to. She was determined to see it through to whatever outcome.

Willow felt rather than witnessed the almost transparent tendrils slowly twist up and reach out from the circle, drawing in the unlimited energy from the world around her; the unseen power that held the fabric of reality together. The shimmering threads created a web that crisscrossed between each independent flame in a throbbing tangle of silvery sheen that converged into her small circle that balanced precariously between the two rings. As the spell continued to suck in that steady hum of existence, Willow was caught completely unprepared as other searching coils suddenly reared up, striking into her own body. She inhaled quickly, her eyes wide as the spell hooked inside her, attaching itself to her veins, her heartbeat and life energy. She gasped out the remaining words in shallow breaths.

She'd never experienced anything like this. It was beyond frightening. She became acutely aware of what kind of magic and power she was tapping into; how big her actions were, how desperate.

Willow may have been a witch, but she was still human and she was going to need a lot of help for this. The room was glowing stormy shades of violet and black; the edges of her bedroom seemed to bulge and distort, breathing in and out like a living entity. The flames billowed and hissed loudly around the circles. She fumbled to pick up the knife on the floor beside her.

She was going to have to make her case directly to the forces of love and death.

With a sharp wince, she drew the blade across her palm in a damp scarlet slice. Staring, she watched the blood run as it escaped through the fresh cut for a long second. The spell built and weighed down the air with raw magic around her; waiting. She blinked and her thoughts whispered one word as she placed her hand upon the water's surface.

The rich blood swirled down through the liquid in cloudy ribbons, over the submerged picture. She waited, unable to breath. _'Please…'_

Then her eyes widened as she watched the water under her palm turn blood-red before sinking to an inky black. She couldn't see anything in the bowl; an endless dark tunnel. Willow jumped in terror as the fire that surrounded her shot up to the ceiling, crawling across it to meet above her head and enclose around her. The unbreakable magic that tied her life to the spell flared painfully. Willow cried out, doubling over, as her whole body was tugged forcefully. The room shrunk into nothing in the blink of an eye.

o0o

* * *

**AN** Hmm...Yes, I think I _shall _leave it there. ;)

Hope you enjoyed. I'm loving writing this, and I love hearing from you guys. Remember: Reviews = happy author = Inspiration!


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

_If she didn't know a lot better, she might have almost thought she was standing in a pitch dark room. _

_Willow looked down at herself and was somewhat surprised to see her body was still there and solid, looking like she had done back in her room. She raised her hands and touched her face experimentally – yep, she was definitely solid. But she was the only thing here that was. _

_The space around her wasn't just dark; it felt like nothing- a deep void. She took a tentative step forward, relieved when she didn't fall into the enveloping blackness but not feeling anything under her feet either. It was a very strange sensation. _

"_Hello?" _

_She called out uncertainly to the empty space, but her words didn't make a sound in the thick black; instead she heard her voice echoing around her own head. It made her feel incredibly disoriented. _

_Without warning, she suddenly felt the foreign presences enter her body, whispering thoughts in her mind that weren't her own. Staggering slightly, she clutched her head. _

"_You risk much to call on us, mortal."_

_The voice brushed her mind like a faint touch. Willow felt a trail of warmth where the presence danced within her. It was quietly comforting but full of daunting power. _

"_I-I know." Willow felt her mouth move in sync with her voice in her head. _

"_Yes. We know why you have done this." _

_The presence pre-empted her and slipped between her thoughts; images of her and Oz flashed in front of Willow's eyes, slowing down as she re-lived watching his vamped face crumble before her. She felt a sob catch in her chest, but forced it down._

"_You can not stop death." _

_The second presence stirred, sending a cool shiver through her body. _

"_I'm not asking for that." _

"_No. You ask for our help to cross parallel dimensions."_

_Willow was silent. _

"_You know what you risk with this request?" _

_She did. She'd basically bargained her life on this one chance, last hope. Willow didn't have the magic to accomplish her desire on her own. But there was nothing stronger in existence than love and death. With deadly and irrevocable power; to call on them was a suicidal fool's errand. Willow was nothing compared to what she was dealing with; but she was still here – throwing herself on their mercy. _

"_You mourn love and seek to defy death. The one you lost is gone."_

_The darker presence weaved through her mind like a cold breeze. There was no accusation or anger in their whispers; only clear and even observations. _

"_No! He's not lost completely!" Willow pleaded desperately inside her head. "Please, please just let me go to him. I know where he is, I can find him again."_

_Their touches were feather light as they moved through Willow, almost absently, considering her. _

"_Mortal, you grieve and love much. You ask to give up your place in one dimension for another. Your future, that will have love in it again; a chance for a life with another; friendships that will come through darkness and light, people you are connected to."_

_Willow shut her eyes as bursts of images, feelings, knowledge and scenes darted across her mind. She saw Buffy, Xander, Giles, Angel; scenes from a possible future with them. Laughter, betrayal, anger, heartache, acceptance, death and grief, darkness and redemption, love and friendship – all moved too fast for her to get a real grip on them. She saw an unfamiliar girl, blonde and pretty, felt surprisingly strong feelings of love and happiness. Yet there were echoes of sadness, dulled by time but ever present. A break that didn't ever really heal. A loss and regret that lingered under everything. _

_Willow swayed as she came back to herself. _

"_Are you willing to give it all up and take a new path?"_

_Tears welled in Willow's anguished eyes at the thought of her friends. She didn't want to leave them. God, she really didn't. But -- she knew. She'd even felt it in her vision; what she knew deep down, all along. She couldn't lose him, not while there was even a shred of hope she could be with him again. _

"_I love him."_

_The final words whispered softly in her head and seemed to filter all through her body. Quiet greeted her statement for what seemed like an eternity._

"_You know the severity of your decision, mortal." _

_The shadowed presence seemed to trail cold fingers through her chest. Willow flinched slightly. _

"_If your love isn't as true as you believe it is, there is no coming back."_

_Willow nodded. She felt strangely at peace, resigned to whatever the outcome of her choice would be. She was ready._

_The deafening scream filled her head as the two forces that had been drifting through her body and mind, suddenly plunged into her heart with a splitting agony. Memories, thoughts and feelings exploded inside Willow as the forces went even deeper, digging into her very soul. It was like re-living her life in super-crazy-fast speed. Literally. Every once-distant feeling as vivid as the moment it had first happened. _

_A five-year old girl sitting down to cry in the sand-pit as a twinkling dark-haired little boy ran teasingly out of reach, a smudged and worn Barbie hanging upside down by her plastic leg in his fist. _

_Cautious happiness as the strange gangly boy pushed his lunch tray across the table towards her awkwardly. Nine year old Jesse looked over to Harmony's bouncing yellow waves as she laughed shrilly and dropped the red-faced little girl's packed lunch into the nearest bin. He pulled a face at her back; Willow giggled quietly._

_"Hi! You're Willow right? I'm Buffy." The beautiful blonde waved and gave a friendly smile. "I heard a rumour you were the person to talk to if I wanted to get caught up..."_

_"You're the Slayer, and we're like - the Slayerettes!"_

_"Speaking of 'wow' potential - there's Oz over there. What are we thinking? Any sparkage?"_

_She saw Oz flash through her mind a thousand times; his always changing hair; his familiar bowling shirts against her skin; the feeling of his fingers as they played with her hair. The sound of his music; his quiet smile; his secret eyes that told her how he felt more than words ever did. Her body twitched and convulsed in uncontrollable spasms. She saw herself reading to him on his wolfy nights; felt the love and concern as she watched over him in werewolf form. Every embrace, every kiss, every touch, every glance she could ever remember sharing. She saw him die right in front of her; saw her hand drive the stake into his unbeating heart. She saw herself waking from the coma, his name her first thought and word. Every time he had comforted her; listened patiently; made her laugh; calmed her down. How special he made her feel; how loved. He didn't ask anything from her, didn't need her to be anything. She was just Willow for him, and that was enough. That was everything. The realisation that she only wanted Oz after the 'fluke'; how lucky she'd felt when he'd still wanted to be with her. Every sensation she had ever experienced because of him, raged inside Willow until it was unbearable. _

_Heart-stopping grief burst through her. Her vital organs seemed to seize up as the deluge continued. The thought of living the rest of her life without him; the realisation that she'd lost the person she loved with her whole heart. Knowing half of her was gone. Lost. The desire and desperation to see him alive again. Feeling her heart crumble to dust along with his. Willow felt her legs give out from under her, but whatever space she was suspended in, held her up and she couldn't fall to her knees. Her body trembled as every fibre in her ached and screamed in protest. _

_The forces had probed into the very heart of this girl who had come before them. Using the magical ties she had invoked to bind herself into the spell, they explored the full extent of her love and grief at depths even she wasn't aware of. They delved through every memory and thought she had absorbed. Her heart was indeed broken. At the crux of her soul, there were many things. Everything that made her who she was. Love and loyalty to her friends; fierce intelligence; the desire to do good; a deeply rooted strength and kindness; defiant determination and fool-hardy stubbornness; barely tapped potential power; and a confidence that was just starting to bloom. _

_And there was him. _

_The girl was consumed with loss over this boy. _

_They were right when they told her she could have been happy without him; but she wouldn't have been whole. The forces withdrew and settled back amongst her mind. _

_It was over. Willow attempted to regain her senses as her poor heart struggled to recover from the invasive trauma. She would have taken several deep breaths if she had needed air wherever she was. She didn't realise she had been crying, until she raised a shaking hand to her face. The voices were silent but Willow knew they were there. So she waited. To her surprise, it was the darker presence she sensed in the voice that whispered through her thoughts._

"_So be it."_

_She barely had time to react before the space around her flashed brilliant white, blinding her. She threw her arms up to shield her eyes uselessly, her face contorting with mute distress as the presences sharing her body suddenly ignited with overwhelming power. Energy rippled over her skin, and at the same moment Willow felt a familiar warmth flow through her. Her body was yanked painfully and the presences abruptly left her mind, leaving her alone in the rushing darkness._

_

* * *

_

**AN** The rest of the story is going to be more complicated, from a writer's perspective, but I'll do my very best, and feel free to call me up on things if you think I've missed or over-looked something. There are a lot of things to keep track of in an AU!

**Coming Up: Willow enters the Wishverse, and is in for some surprises!**


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

She was sore.

Her gradually spreading awareness only seemed to extend to the feeling of pain that stung through her limbs and chest. Willow ached like she had just been dropped from a great height onto a very hard surface. Well, no-one had said travelling dimensions would be a comfortable experience.

She blinked her eyes open and turned her head, squinting at her dark surroundings. She was definitely on solid ground now. With a grimace, Willow pulled herself up into an awkward sitting position. When she'd recovered her breath enough, she finally looked clearly at her current location. Her eyes fell on a familiar building and she realised she was lying on the pavement across from the movie theatre downtown. Threatening darkness hung all around her on the empty streets, bearing down with a physical presence. A presence that didn't want her here.

Her eyes widened slightly as they took in the desolation of the buildings she knew so well. Broken and stripped; unkempt and vandalised. Everything was closed and shuttered against the dominating night. There wasn't a soul in sight; all was still and dangerously quiet. Willow wrinkled her nose as the stench of death suddenly assaulted her senses, swept in on a light breeze. It was everywhere.

_We're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto._

Willow clambered unsteadily to her feet. Well, she had got her wish.

She swallowed, hardly able to believe the fear and menace that seemed to consume the town she had once grown up in; devouring away like a ruthlessly aggressive disease. She had guessed that the world her doppelganger had come from would not be anything in the realm of rainbows and lollipop trees. After all, this was a world where the Master had somehow risen and the vampires ruled Sunnydale with unflinching death and cruelty. Vampires like her and Xander. Willow shivered and pulled her arms around her middle in a small hug.

But nothing had quite prepared her for the reality of facing this world for herself.

A high pitched scream suddenly pierced the night. Willow jumped and spun around, her eyes darting frantically across the shadowed street. She instinctively started to run in the direction of the sound, but faltered after a few steps. This wasn't the Sunnydale she came from. God knew how many vampires she would encounter if she followed the desperate cries. The idea of turning away as someone was being slowly killed made her stomach lurch unpleasantly; Willow didn't think she could do it. But she didn't have Buffy, or even a stake! She wouldn't save them; she would walk right into her own death. An image of Vamp Willow shot through her mind. Her own reflection twisting and reshaping in front of her; the demon's poison swam in soulless mocking eyes, mouth dripping in a grin of sick pleasure. The possibility of running into her highly evil and powerful counter-part was enough to turn Willow's still flowing blood, deathly cold. She didn't have a tranquiliser gun handy this time.

The night was quiet once more in the few seconds it had taken for these scattered thoughts to race through her mind. Willow felt sick; how could she have done nothing? She slumped against the metal grill of a shop front, her fingers gripping numbly through the black diamond gaps; her head spinning. She had to do something. She wanted desperately to be able to save the people here, trapped in this hell. But Willow knew she couldn't do it alone. She needed help.

Voices sounded in the air and she snapped her head to the side as footsteps and cruel laughter echoed in the street. Her heart hammered in her throat. The night was too dangerous; they were hunting. Forcing her shell-shocked body to move, Willow slipped and stumbled along the buildings, sinking into the shadows as she felt her way along in the dark. She had to find people; the people who were fighting the battle in this reality.

Her feet automatically took her in the direction of the high-school. The library. Some things never changed, right?

o0o

The more her senses adjusted to her surroundings, to this strange new world; the more Willow found herself fervently wishing she could block it all out. Yet it continued to slam into her with punishing force, as she began to realise just how much evil had taken root here. Hell was alive and well, and flourishing greedily in the playground of death Sunnydale had become.

She could only imagine it was thanks to years of living as a Slayerette and an absurd amount of luck, that she managed to avoid accidentally running right into the demons that roamed freely and openly about in the night; preying on the unsuspecting or ignorant. It kept her alive on the streets of this Sunnydale; against impossible odds.

Willow had nearly dug through the flesh of her arm from her self-restraining grip, as the closer she got to the centre of town, to their once favourite club, the streets got busier. Horror seized her in a nauseating grasp as she glimpsed packs of youthful vampires feeding on half-dead kids in the middle of the streets, as casually as if they were sharing a smoke.

_There's nothing you can do now. Find help. There's nothing you can do now. Find help._

The mantra seared into her mind. Willow flinched away as she saw the glazed eyes staring out blankly from lolling heads – they were already gone. She hid and moved as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself. She was positive she was going to throw up before she made it to the library. Dark clothes, lace and leather clashed against white dead skin.

"_I guess vampires really don't need to breathe."_

Everywhere; pale faces, amber eyes glinting in unquenchable hunger, ripping teeth and pouring blood. It was too much.

Willow stopped suddenly, hearing soft whimpers in the dark ahead of her. She crept forward and peered round the corner of the shadowed alley. A lone vampire was biting into a petite brown-haired girl, who couldn't be more than fourteen. The pleated skirt and white blouse of her school uniform were battered with dirt and shredded from futile struggle. Willow's stomach churned as the demon drank in heaving gulps; the girl's eyes were wide with terror and tears of pain, unable to even catch her breath to scream. Willow snapped. She couldn't take anymore of this. The vampire was tall, his brute form towered over the girl and Willow knew she definitely couldn't take him in a fight.

However...

The budding witch focused her mind and concentrated on one of the broken crates that lay discarded in the shadows of the surrounding walls. She felt the familiar rush of sparks as the magic flowed up inside her, awaiting her will for instruction. She watched as a large slat of wood broke off the box and levitated just above it. With a deep controlled breath; the rough stake flew through the air in one swift motion. The vampire jerked and growled in angry surprise as he looked down at the splintered wood that had rammed straight through his chest.

At the same moment that he turned to a shower of dust, Willow sprang out from her hiding place and ran to the crying girl. She pulled her to her feet from where she had collapsed and spoke urgently, staring into her wide eyes.

"Are you okay? Look, run home and stay there, alright? Whatever you do - don't stop until you get there!"

The young girl stared at her with fearful confusion, a hand clamped to her bleeding neck. Willow shook her gently but firmly.

"Do you understand?"

The brunette nodded quickly, unable to speak. The witch released her and watched with relief as she spun around and took off, her unsteady steps echoing in the enclosed space.

The weight on Willow's heart lessened a fraction.

o0o

The school looked almost the same as she approached it in the shrouding darkness. Memories flooded Willow as she looked up at the building where she had seen and experienced so much. All the things that had happened here; all those days and nights with her friends; laughing, arguing, living, mourning and fighting together, as a family. Where it had all started.

It felt like coming home. Except...except they weren't going to be there. Willow shook her head and bit back the tears that threatened. This had been her choice.

The front doors were locked. She knew she shouldn't be surprised and began to head round to the car park where the back entry to the library was. A warm breeze tugged at her hair; leaves rustled in the blackness where her footsteps seemed to echo about with an unappreciated clarity. A chill swept through her that had nothing to do with the wind. The school carried the same sense of loss that hung over the rest of the town, making it cold and unwelcoming. She hugged her arms close and picked up her pace.

Willow was crossing the empty car park when she felt them.

"All alone? What a shame. Guess we'll just have to share."

As the menacing purr met her ears, four figures stepped out of the shadows simultaneously and surrounded her in a predatory circle. Willow's luck had finally run out._ Uh oh. _She stepped back, her hands stretched out defensively as she looked round at the demonic ridged faces. Four to one. She didn't think a floating stake was going to do it this time. Suddenly, one of the vampires moved back, his distorted features twisted in an expression of surprise.

"It's you! Oh, I'm sorry, we're sorry! Forgive us!"

He mumbled frantically, his head bent. Willow blinked. The other vampires looked amongst themselves and shifted uneasily, a few stared at her in disbelief. The light clicked. Her eyes grew wide for a moment. Oh, right! Of course they would see her as she was in _this_ dimension; where Willow was a scary, evil and sadistic vampire and apparently very feared. Even though...well, she wasn't. But they didn't need to know that there were two Willows here now.

Willow drew herself up and prayed her voice wouldn't shake too much. Her disastrous attempt to pull off this same impersonation at the Bronze flashed through her mind, very unhelpfully.

"Yes. It-It is I." _Damn it Willow, sound eviler!_ She forced herself to look each of them in the eye, which caused her to move in an awkward twirl in the circle.

"Sh-Shame on you for your disrespect! Get out of my sight before I decide to do something...something really bad to you! And very painful!"

She nodded sharply in what she hoped was a decisive and commanding way. Her already shaky confidence wavered when they didn't move. She might need another escape plan. A hulking dark-haired vamp, who was clearly the one in charge of his group, stepped forward warily and stared hard at her. Willow forced herself to stand her ground.

"I heard you had died."

Willow spun round; a young skinny vamp that was slightly dwarfed by his long leather duster was looking at her sceptically, eyes narrowed.

_Died? Vamp Willow?_

"Well...well, you heard wrong. 'Cause, y'know, here I am." She had that sinking feeling again. "N-now you had all better run along, less you suffer...my wrath!"

_Oh great, Willow. You're meant to be a big powerful vampire, remember. Try to at least sound like you mean it._

She obviously wasn't any better at playing this whole evil thing, and she didn't even have the outfit this time. Willow turned back as she felt the leader move closer to her again. She swallowed nervously as he looked her up and down. Her erratic heart thumped revealingly loud in her chest. He smiled slowly, showing his gleaming fangs.

"I don't know who you are, but you're no vampire."

Low snarls rippled round the circle. Okay, time for Plan B.

Willow ducked and spun away as they lunged for her. She dodged out of the circle and tumbled into the smallest of the gang, bringing him skidding to the tarmac along with her. A hand closed around her throat, hauling her to her feet. Willow gasped out a scream before the air was choked out of her. She struggled against the body behind her, slamming her elbow back into his groin. She heard a cry of pain as she was dropped to the ground. Two more bodies fell on top of her and strong hands jerked her head to the side. Amongst the inhuman hisses and her own deafening panic-stricken heartbeats, Willow frantically pushed and clawed at their bodies and eventually managed to kick one of the attackers off her. The other pulled her up with him; a furious growl rumbled in her ear, fangs brushed her neck. With a sudden flash of inspiration, Willow grabbed onto his arms that were gripped around her, and yanked hard with a strength she didn't know she had. In a move they had learnt in a gym lesson a long time ago, she flipped the vampire over her shoulder.

_Wow, it works! _she thought breathlessly. Buffy would have been proud.

She had no time for congratulation though as they kept coming at her. Willow turned and ran towards the library door as fast as she could, but she knew there was no way she could make it with four vamps on her tail. Her mind began whispering an incantation she had memorised a while ago. It was risky but she had no choice. She felt her palms grow hot.

Spinning around mid step, Willow released the light at the two vamps nearest her. She watched with satisfaction and much relief as they screamed and burst into flames. They staggered and burned for a moment before the fire swallowed up their dead bodies, leaving nothing but ash behind. But it wasn't enough. With a blood-thirsty growl, the tallest vampire knocked Willow to the ground. She cried out as her head cracked painfully on the tarmac and spots danced in front of her eyes. The spell had left her too drained to fight with any force and the vampire easily overpowered her, pinning her down. She screwed her eyes shut and braced for the pain - but it didn't come.

Willow heard a struggle above her and suddenly the body was hauled off her. She opened her eyes and blinked at the faintly twinkling stars in night sky directly above. Her head throbbed painfully and sickening darkness swept in. She dimly heard the sounds of combustion, as Willow passed out.

o0o

* * *

**AN** So, Welcome to the Wishverse! Not a fun place. Though I kinda feel like it should have its own opening credits - Buffy style! (My imagination has been having a lot of fun with that idea!)


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

The world swam in swirls of dark colours. Willow scrunched her eyes shut again with a low groan.

Head hurt -- bad. What had happened? Her muddled thoughts started picking themselves up and trying to arrange back into understandable order. Vampires. She had been attacked; she had been going somewhere…Were the others alright? Where had Buffy been? That was weird, she didn't recall the Slayer being with her. Evil Willow…blood…a crying girl. Limp bodies and red stained mouths…a face crumbling into dust before her…voices in her mind…Oz! Willow gasped and sat up with a start.

She remembered.

She quickly put a hand to her forehead as a swell of nausea washed over her. Moving too fast equals sickness, she decided. After a moment, she made another attempt to open her eyes. She was laid out on a couch in a softly lit room -- the library office. A restless creak from the door drew her attention and Willow turned towards the sound before abruptly jerking back with a sharp breath, faced with a glinting cross bow levelled directly at her chest.

"Who are you?"

A young woman stood across the room in the doorway, holding the weapon with a steady hand, straight at Willow's heart. Her dark eyes were hardened and fixed on the other girl in sharp suspicion. She looked older than Willow and held herself in a defensive stance that echoed her toned body that was poised for action under the black tank top and combat trousers. Black hair was pinned up in an untidy ponytail, around a face that looked deceptively delicate, with fine high cheek bones and a small slender nose. The most eye-catching physical detail however, was the angry slash that ran up from the crease of her elbow in a faint red scar, and disappeared over the back of her shoulder.

Willow quickly held her hands up in appeasement.

"I'm not a vampire!" she squeaked, the words tumbling out of her in a rush, eyes fixed on the deadly weapon. The woman was silent and the bow wasn't lowered. "I'm-I'm sorry! I was just looking for…"

Willow was saved from the icy stare as another person appeared at her captor's shoulder. Her eyes grew round; she breathed out the name in shock.

"Giles!"

The familiar face of the librarian looked in at her curiously. She was off the couch and half way across the room before the silent woman stepped forward warningly, forcing Willow to stop to avoid impaling herself on the vicious arrow still pointed at her.

"Giles - you're here! I mean…" Willow trailed off in the face of the blank stares she was receiving. She closed her mouth and decided maybe quiet was a good idea for the moment.

"I thought she was dead."

Willow's eyes darted from the dark haired woman who had spoken, to Giles who was looking tired and perplexed. "Oh, you think... No, it's ok -- I'm not her! Well, I mean I am…but not. In the sense that I'm alive, and very _not _evil…"

Willow locked eyes with Giles, as if somehow she could get him to recognise her. To see her as he once did. The Watcher looked almost the same as she remembered and Willow felt a sudden swell of home-sickness. She saw his brow crease in that familiar thoughtful expression; but he wasn't her Giles. This Giles looked worn and beaten down by the tide of evil that had washed over this reality; carried much guilt and blame at all he wasn't able to hold back. But, he was still here; still fighting. Willow felt a tentative warmth grow inside her in spite of everything. She still had Giles. Did that mean Buffy was here too?

"Annie, I think you can put that down."

The young woman shot him an incredulous stare but slowly obeyed. She stepped aside and Willow cautiously moved past her, following Giles back into the main library.

"You seem to have recovered from your…attack." The Watcher leant against the long table, turning to face the girl who was hovering nervously in the middle of the floor. Annie lurked against the wall behind her; absently fingering the cross-bow and keeping a close eye on the stranger.

"Y-yes. Thanks. How did I get inside though? Did…?" Willow cast a quick glance behind her at the scary weapon lady and back at Giles, who cleared his throat and removed his glasses, his gaze locked down as he scrubbed at the lenses.

"Yes, well, we heard fighting and went out to investigate. You fell unconscious." He looked up at Willow and she saw the barely concealed bewilderment in his face. "You…it can't be a coincidence. You look exactly...But she can't..." He was half muttering to himself, casting confused glances between the fidgeting redhead and his glasses that were still in his hand.

Willow opened her mouth, ready to attempt to offer some explanation and perhaps get a better grasp of the way things were in this world; but she was interrupted before she could speak.

"All clear outside."

Willow turned at the sounds of feet and voices, and saw two boys enter the swinging doors.

All three of them froze.

The two young men were completely staggered to see one of the most feared vamps in town standing in the middle of the library; not to mention the fact that one of them had personally seen her turn to dust. Something _very_ bad was going down…

The girl was staring wide-eyed. The world narrowed down to a single face. Her heart seized in her chest and she couldn't move.

"Oz…"

o0o


	9. Chapter Eight

Big thanks to everyone who's come back to keep reading! Enjoy and please review!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

"Giles, look out!"

The other boy was shouting and before Willow knew it, a stake was spinning through the air directly towards her. She blinked in surprise before a body suddenly collided into hers and she was pushed aside. The stake bounced off the table behind them.

"She's not a vampire, Mike!"

Annie straightened up after shoving Willow out of the path of the missile, a little harder than perhaps was necessary. The boy who had nearly impaled her, was looking at the dark haired woman like he couldn't believe she could be so stupid.

"Are you insane?" he demanded, his angry voice laced with unmistakable panic. His eyes were fearful as they darted back to Willow.

Giles stood up and addressed the edgy group of young people, who stood around at an uneasy impasse. "She's right, Michael. This...girl was unconscious from the attack. Annie had to pull a vampire off her."

Willow barely heard the raised voices around her. Her mind was still reeling at being confronted with the ghost of her lover. His living, breathing, real and solid - ghost.

Oz had been silent throughout the explosive exchange. He was surprised to say the least, to see the notoriously vicious vampire he had somehow managed to dust a time ago, looking at him like - that. It was interesting. So he remained quiet, and waited for the others to calm down and for someone to explain things.

The doors swung open again, and another person came upon the strange scene they were all experiencing.

"Rupert, I -"

Willow nearly fainted. The woman caught sight of her and smiled warmly; soft dark hair, longer than she remembered, fell around a face Willow never imagined she'd ever see again.

"Oh, you're awake."

"Miss…Miss Calendar?"

The shock of everything finally hit her and she stumbled backwards. To find not one ghost but two…The back of her knees hit a chair and firm hands helped guide her into it. Willow was still staring at the face of her murdered computer teacher. She'd been dead for over a year! She could still remembered the night Miss Calendar had died; Giles's empty voice on the phone; Buffy slumped on the floor in horror; Mrs Summers holding her distraught form as she cried. What did this mean? Buffy? Angel…? Willow let out a small whimper and her head slumped forward into her hands.

"Uh, Giles? Any thoughts on what the hell is going on?"

The Watcher looked over from the trembling girl, to find several pairs of questioning eyes on him. He sighed. Yes, he was usually answers guy but the number of hours he had available to devote to research had dwindled considerably over the past couple of years. And this was clearly something that was beyond the average Hellmouth activity.

"Well, well clearly something…very…strange…has happened."

Annie raised an eyebrow. Oz cast an almost amused expression in the Watcher's direction.

"Wonderful. Clear as mud. Good thing you were here." Mike muttered, tossing his hands up in exasperation.

Giles frowned at the teenager, before looking back at the very human form of a very dead vampire sitting at the table. The poor girl was obviously as confused as the rest of them. He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder; she flinched at the light touch and raised her head from her hands, looking up at him.

"Um, well it seems that you know us, but I'm afraid we don't know you. Well, not as you are now. You see, well this is all very baffling. You look, exactly like a…a vampire that lived here. But we thought she had…and you're not…" The librarian pulled off his glasses and twirled them nervously as he tried to think. To his surprise, the girl touched his hand with a sad smile on her face.

"Giles, it's okay. I think I should explain."

"Yes? Oh, yes that would be...good."

"Yeah, how about starting with how you came back from the un-dead?"

Giles threw a severe look at the unfamiliar boy, who shrugged unapologetically.

"Michael, why don't we just listen to her first? I understand your emotions but this girl doesn't deserve your hostility." Willow glanced over at the figure of Miss Calendar as she briefly laid a calming hand on his arm before catching her eye. It was a surreal sensation. "Am I right in thinking that you're a witch?"

Willow was caught off guard at the astute observation; her eyes darted around her assembled audience who looked just as shocked, before landing back on the teacher. She shouldn't have been so surprised, really. After all Miss Calendar _was_ a gypsy, and the one who had unintentionally first led Willow in the direction of magic. At least, things had played out that way where she had come from.

It was enough to make her head hurt, even worse than her previous concussion.

"It's okay," Jenny Calendar stepped over to the girl slowly. "I saw what you managed out there. Pretty strong magic. Daylight spell?"

Willow nodded quietly.

"You're very talented."

She looked into the face of the not-quite-so-dead woman and managed a small smile. "Thank you."

The teacher returned the smile and Willow felt a little better. Now that she was beginning to get over the shock, she began to appreciate the unexpected gift of finding people again; people she had thought lost. Though it was still hard to believe. Miss Calendar was - alive. Giles was here. Oz…

Her eyes travelled to the silent boy who was watching the events closely; keeping his thoughts to himself with such a familiar lack of expression, that it made her want to laugh out loud with relief. His hair was slightly shorter than it had been, and currently dyed blonde. Other than that, he looked almost exactly as she remembered. His clothes, like those of everyone else except her, were dull and muted colours, though still in his inimitable style. His eyes were the same piercing shade of green...

A self-conscious cough from beside her made Willow catch herself and she looked over to see Giles eyeing her expectantly. Oh boy, she had quite some explaining to do. She twisted her hands together as she wondered how to even start. "Okay. Well, um, the thing is... I'm not, _exactly_ - from this world."

There was silence. Her eyes swept worriedly across the faces in the room, awaiting a reaction.

"So, you're what? An alien?"

"As if that would make our lives any weirder." Oz's response was typically deadpan as he turned to the other boy, speaking for the first time since he'd entered the room.

"No! No, I mean, I'm just from - Look, I _am_ Willow but, well, I guess I'm who _your_ vamp Willow would have been if she hadn't been vamped and the Master hadn't risen and if things - well, just everything had turned out a little different!" She watched as Giles slowly paced to his office door and back, a deep frown on his face as he twirled his glasses thoughtfully.

"Is this a trick?" Annie's hand was twitching the bow with agitation.

Willow shrunk back slightly in her chair. "No! No, it's true! The Sunnydale I come from is…well, better. I mean, people went out at night and I went to school here, and Buffy fought the vampires and we all helped - what?"

Giles had halted abruptly in his pacing and turned to look at her sharply. "Buffy Summers? You knew the Slayer?"

"Y-yes. I mean, she came here in my sophomore year and she stopped the Master. Me and Xander, we were her best friends and we would fight too, and you were her Watcher…" Willow trailed off at the look on his face. Giles sat down heavily at the table, his expression pained. Jenny went to him and touched his shoulder gently; he briefly squeezed her hand without looking up and she turned back to Willow.

"So, you're from another reality? A reality, I guess, where…the Slayer came to Sunnydale."

"Is that even possible?" Mike stepped forward, his tone harsh and sceptical, his gaze fixed on the older woman.

"Well, we know other planes exist separate from ours, like the demon hell dimensions. There's no reason to assume other realities can't exist on other dimensions also. Though travelling between them…" She glanced over curiously at Willow, who avoided the silent question and looked down.

"A world where the Master didn't rise…" Giles was muttering softly to himself; he closed his eyes for a moment.

Willow was still trying to get to grips with the ways of this reality. "So, you mean here, Buffy never came? Like - at all?"

She looked around in the silence that followed, a heaviness building in her chest. But if that meant she was still out there somewhere, maybe they could find her and bring her here! The thought of possibly seeing her best friend again…

"No. At least, not right away." Giles straightened in the seat but didn't look at anyone. "A few months ago, I succeeded in tracking her down. I felt she was needed here at that time – there were rumours of unthinkable plans being put into action by the Master."

Mike moved quietly to the book cage and began putting weapons away, his back to the conversation. Oz watched the younger boy but didn't comment. Giles put his glasses back on wearily and continued. "She came to town and was determined to take out the Master. She found them at a factory where they had rounded up people to…" He shook his head. Willow found she almost didn't want to know. "Anyway, there was a battle. Several of the Master's followers were taken out. Including, well your...counter-part I suppose, and her paramour." His face tightened in a momentary grimace as he fought to keep the unrelenting guilt at bay, his voice lowering. "Unfortunately, Miss Summers also lost her...The Master killed her."

Willow felt her faint hope crushed. Air was suddenly hard to come by. Buffy? Buffy - was dead. Willow took a hold of herself firmly. No, _her_ Buffy was still alive. She still existed, back in her own reality…and out of Willow's reach forever now. _Vamp Willow's lover. _Her fingers gripped the arm of her chair in an unconscious reflex, seeking support. Trying to keep her spiking emotions grounded to something solid. _Xander._ Willow had known she had already lost her oldest friend to the demons in this Sunnydale. The thought alone made a fresh wave of grief wash over her. But, in a strange way, she also felt a sense of relief. At least he was free. She wouldn't be forced to see the monster that had taken over his body. Willow didn't think she could have handled that. She felt her heart groan under the weight of loss.

"I'm-I'm sorry. So, I really am dead here. Buffy...W-What about Angel?"

Confused glances were exchanged, though she noticed that Miss Calendar stayed quiet, eyes subtly averted. Willow frowned in thought. Finally Annie spoke up. "Who's Angel?"

"He was a...a friend of Buffy's, and he helped us a lot. Okay, he was kinda a vampire, but he had a soul. He was one of the good guys." Willow's gaze strayed to Jenny and Giles. She forced herself to look away.

"I'm afraid I-I don't know. We never-"

"Uh, not to interrupt but-" Everyone turned to see Oz with his hand in the air. He looked over at Willow. "A good vampire?"

Willow felt her breath catch in her throat as he spoke to her, but nodded.

"At the factory, the guy who broke the holding cells and helped us get out - I saw him get staked in the fight. I didn't really get a chance to think about it…" He caught Willow's eye again. "Sorry."

"Oh."

She looked down, trying to absorb everything. It was a lot to take in. Angel and Buffy had never met. The idea seemed impossible. So much had revolved around their tumultuous love affair. Buffy and Angel were just - the definition of star-crossed lovers. Angel had died still fighting the good fight; Buffy had lost to the Master who she had died from once before...but she couldn't come back this time. And Xander had been lost a long time ago, yet he and Willow had still been together to the end. Even in this embattled world. It seemed fitting, in a twisted and sad way.

Yet, they were all still alive. Right where she had left them.

'_Are you willing to give it all up and take a new path?'_

Willow had known what her decision would entail; everything required sacrifice. She breathed in and out deeply. It hurt like hell, but she didn't regret her choice. She couldn't. Willow knew she needed time to come to terms and make her peace with all she had lost. She glanced back up and met those familiar eyes that were watching her thoughtfully. He was really here. Her heart knocked against her ribcage in heady jumps as she soaked in the sight once again. For the first time since she had arrived in this reality, Willow offered silent, heart-felt thanks to the powers that had brought her there.

"Well, not to be rude, but what are you doing here? I mean, this isn't your world. How did you get here?"

Everyone looked to Annie, who was staring at Willow with narrowed eyes.

Willow blinked as she was snapped back to the conversation. "Um, I don't know. I-I just kind of…woke up here. I'm not sure what happened."

She knew it was beyond lame and no-one would honestly believe her, but she had panicked, and Willow wasn't ready to tell them what had happened. Not right now. It was too personal. And when in doubt – plead ignorance. That had always been Xander's philosophy. Well that, and to consume vast amounts of Twinkies until the problem got resolved.

"But how did you know about your vampire double?"

Annie was clearly a woman on a mission. Willow shifted uncomfortably under her intense scrutiny. "Oh, well she briefly appeared in our reality a while ago. A spell gone wrong. But we managed to send her back." Willow felt like she should add 'sorry' to the end of that sentence. But she was dead now anyway, and as much as Willow was relieved, she still felt a little funny about that.

A chair scraped and Giles got to his feet. His brow creased in an expression of deep thought the Watcher always got when confronted with a problem. "I take it you had to take part in the spell to send her back?" At Willow's confirmation he went on, walking slowly around the floor. "Yes, I thought so. I'm afraid I haven't heard of any spells to return displaced people to their own worlds. Crossing dimensions is so rare, and even more rarely written about. We could have perhaps re-worked the spell you used before, but with your counter-part in this reality gone…"

Willow watched him as he came to a stop and leant against the table. He looked at her apologetically. "I'll-I'll have to look into it, but I fear you may have to learn to live in this reality for a while."

Her heart was twitching in panic; she hadn't thought they would try to send her back. She wouldn't have thought it was possible. She looked back into Giles' face earnestly. "That's okay. I was actually thinking maybe, maybe I could help you? I fought demons and vampires in my Sunnydale for three years, I want to be able to help with the fight here too. It's a good cause after all."

The Watcher allowed himself a small bemused smile as he watched the girl's keen determination. She couldn't be more different from the Willow they had known here. Full of bravery and optimism; this wasn't even her world but she still wanted in on the doomed fight. Rather extraordinary. He cleared his throat. "Yes, well I'm not sure. I mean, that's a very noble sentiment, but you don't know the full extent of what you're getting into. This town is more dangerous now than it's ever been. I won't be responsible for-"

"But you won't! Giles, I _want_ to help, to be able to save people. This is everyone's fight; and besides, it's my choice." Willow stood up too, animated and in full blown 'resolve' mode. Giles stared at her for a second, slightly thrown at the fierce purpose burning in her face. It was clear she knew her own mind very well, and he suddenly knew beyond a doubt that he could never get her to stay out of harms way, even if he tried.

Willow was unaware of the scrutinizing looks she was receiving from the others in the room as they followed the debate.

"Rupert, if she knows what's involved, we have no right to deny her the chance to fight. Besides, she's a very bright witch from what I saw – she could help us a lot."

Willow beamed gratefully at the teacher. Giles sighed and reluctantly nodded in assent. He knew when he was beaten.

"Very well." His lips twitched in a tired smile. "You are indeed full of surprises, Willow."

Annie suddenly frowned and peered harder at the girl. "Did you get bit?" she demanded bluntly, striding across the library floor to get a closer look. Willow spun round, her smile vanishing as she saw the dark eyes flashing in her direction. All gazes were fixed on her as Willow's hand jerked to her neck. Giles stood up in worry and Willow retreated slightly. She had forgotten about her injury, but as she touched the tender spot, a painful twinge shot through her neck. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but the wound was still raw.

"No! I mean, not just now. This is from…something else." Her eyes flickered briefly to Oz before she could stop herself. She quickly looked down. Giles observed this fleeting exchange with a slight frown. There was clearly a lot more to Willow's story. He filed the mental note away for later.

Annie looked sceptical and was about to press on, when Giles intervened. "Well then, I suggest you all head home for the night, it is very late. I'll see you all tomorrow."

There were scattered nods. Annie hesitated before reluctantly moving to pick up a leather jacket from the library counter. She headed out without a word, still clutching the cross bow that she hadn't set down since Willow had woken up. Mike retrieved and pocketed his stake from the floor by the table, his eyes scanning the room before mumbling a quiet good-night. Oz cast one last look at Willow and nodded to Giles and Jenny before following the other boy out.

"Jenny, could have a word?"

Miss Calendar walked over to Giles, adjusting the collar of her jacket, where they talked softy for a minute. Willow was still staring at the door, slightly dazed, and jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Willow? Rupert and I agree that, if it's okay with you, you come back with me tonight. I have a spare room you can sleep in."

"Oh, yes, that would be great. Thanks."

The teacher smiled and started to lead her towards the door, but Willow stopped. Suddenly she turned around and ran back to the librarian. Reaching up, she threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug, not caring that she caught him off balance. She breathed in the familiar scent of worn tweed and smiled sadly as she mumbled into his jacket. "Thanks Giles. I'm _really_ glad you're here."

The surprised Watcher awkwardly returned the embrace, a faint blush coming to his cheeks. She plastered on a light smile and then hurried back to Miss Calendar who was grinning at the fussy Englishman's embarrassment.

"Good night, Rupert," Jenny called with a laugh as she and Willow disappeared through the doors, leaving the befuddled man alone with his discomfort.

o0o

* * *

**AN** Whew! So there you go. Sorry it took a little while. I don't know if anyone's interested in my story musings but I'll carry on anyway, just cause I feel like rambling at the moment! So yeah, this is pretty much the set up for the Wishverse Willow has travelled to. I decided to try and follow a parallel time-line so that the same amount of time has passed in both realities since the Wishverse was created, making it a few months since the fight at the factory. I felt that for the sake of continuity I wouldn't mess with what happened, so unfortunately Vamp Willow, Xander, Cordelia, Buffy and Angel have all died - which kinda wiped out 70% of my characters! :( So, enter Annie and Mike to make up the White Hat numbers again, and their stories will be explained later. And yes, Mike has kinda replaced Larry - since his fate wasn't revealed in the episode, it is my duty to inform you that he has sadly fallen in the fight. Partly because I just didn't really know how to write him, so I thought I'd start from scratch with my own character. Anyway, I hope they come across ok - please give them a little time to get familiar! And feel free to let me know if and how you think I'm letting them down, but for now - that's pretty much their introduction. The way I've imagined things in the Wishverse, in case people are confused, is that no-one remembers Anya and the circumstances of Cordelia's visit. Sort of one of those mystical balance memory tricks that the powers that be love pulling. Cause the Wishverse didn't disappear when the spell was broken, once it was created, things were tweaked so the multiple dimensions balanced out again on their own separate tracks. Also, for those wondering why Willow didn't bring Oz to her, I mentioned a little of my reasoning here, and a little is to do with the spell she did to get there. If anyone's really interested in more info, just ask and I'll do my best to explain my strange thinking! Moving on, I couldn't resist putting Giles' brilliantly anti-climatic line back in, and it was a nice mirror moment of his counter-part's reaction to the exact same circumstances in the Buffyverse. And it was fun to put in the others' responses again, though of course I could never compete with Xander's classic line! And finally, yay - Miss Calender is back! I was really excited to bring her back into my Wishverse (which I'm growing absurdly attached to!) So we may have lost Buffy, Xander and Angel, but I've given Jenny back! Since Angel never met Buffy and lost his soul in this reality, I felt that there was no reason why she wouldn't be there and naturally helping with the fight. Plus, it's a nice feeling to have another familiar face. Though quite a shock for poor Willow! But we haven't quite seen the last of Buffy, Xander and co yet ;)


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Willow had been slightly startled when she had first gotten into Miss Calendar's car and was met with the sight of a small arsenal. Stakes, bows, daggers and books lay littered across the back seat. It was scary that every last one of them was a necessity now. But the ride itself was mercifully uneventful.

"We've got to take you shopping at the weekend. A girl's got to have her own clothes." Jenny announced as she passed Willow something to sleep in.

"Oh, thanks. Um, just out of curiosity – what day is it?" Willow juggled the bundle of borrowed clothes in her arms.

"Thursday. Well, Friday now technically."

Friday. It had been an early Wednesday morning when she had cast the spell. Was it even the same month? Jenny looked over her shoulder and saw the worried look on the girl's face.

"Don't worry. I would think there would be some time discrepancy when you cross dimensions, but I doubt it would be more than a few weeks." She offered a reassuring smile before moving on to show Willow where the bathroom and kitchen were, telling her to help herself to anything in the fridge.

"Can-can I ask you something?"

Miss Calendar turned round to face her as Willow frowned and tried to find the right words. "Why do you believe me? It's just that, well the others were all pretty convinced I was evil Willow in some way. But you – were nice."

The older woman looked hard at Willow for a moment, thinking over her answer. She tucked a curl behind her ear absently as she spoke. "When me, Rupert and Annie rushed outside, you were holding your own pretty well against four vampires. The magic you used was powerful and difficult and only available to one who had researched hard for it– there was no way you were anything like your double here. I suppose I wasn't that surprised when you told us what happened, because I sensed something like that from you."

Willow couldn't find any appropriate words to respond. She kept forgetting Miss Calendar had extensive knowledge of the mystical, and was of course more in tune with all things magical. Jenny smirked and turned back to show her to the spare room.

The room was small but tidy and friendly; with cream coloured walls and a neat single bed in the corner with lilac covers.

"Do you want me to wake you in the morning?"

"Yes, thanks. And thanks so much for this Miss Calendar."

"It's quite alright. Both Rupert and I wanted to make sure you were safe. You're welcome to stay until we can find a way to get you home." The teacher observed as the girl's face faintly clouded over at her words. Interesting.

"See you in the morning."

"Yeah. Um, Miss Calendar?"

"Hmm?"

Willow glanced down awkwardly. "About, you and Giles…" Her questioning face couldn't quite hide the curiosity as she looked back up at her host.

Jenny smiled as she closed the door behind her. "Goodnight, Willow."

o0o

Willow did not sleep well that night.

Her crowded dreams were fractured and disturbing. She woke up time and time again, frantic, not knowing where she was or who was alive or dead. Every time she shut her eyes, images of blood, fangs and dust; strangling darkness and bodiless cries of tears, taunted her restless mind. It was a relief when light finally streamed into the room.

Pulling herself up, she huddled against the headboard; the warm covers swaddled around her slight form, and watched the sun creep across the floor. It was in this quietly borrowed time, when Willow thought of her friends.

She thought of Xander and Buffy. What they were doing; what they thought of her disappearance; how angry they must be with her, how hurt. She thought of Xander's goofy smile; how Buffy would slay with a clever pun and then give herself a pedicure – still managing to be a teenage girl despite the weight of the world on her shoulders. She thought of them defeating the Pyerli without her. She thought of movie nights at Buffy's; of popcorn and Indian singing as they plaited her hair. She thought of Xander's hugs and Buffy's laugh. Her best friends… Willow sighed shakily and blinked back tears. She thought of Giles. How worried he must be; would he be blaming himself? The knot of guilt tightened in her chest. Their guardian and friend, who loved Buffy like a daughter and watched over all of them. She thought of his dusty books, his beloved Watcher diaries, and his exasperation and confusion at all things teenage. Willow smiled sadly. She thought of Angel and hoped he could be there for Buffy. In the glow of an early morning, worlds apart, she made a wish for them both; for some way they could be happy together. They deserved that.

Willow thought of Oz. That moment he had entered the library, played over and over in her head, stirring up the constant swirl of butterflies that nestled in her stomach. She was sure she would wake to find it had been a delirious dream. His face, his voice, his eyes looking directly at her... She hardly dared to let herself believe that she had found him again; that they could have a second chance. They were both here now and both fighting. Oz was still battling to stop the demons; even without Buffy, he had still wanted to fight the ever increasing hopelessness. And Willow was determined to help. She was a Slayerette to the end, no matter what dimension, or how Slayer-less she was.

When Jenny finally knocked on the door, Willow had been up and dressed for an hour. As they drove back to the school, the town was yet again worse for wear for the nocturnal activities of the previous night. The victims that had been on the streets had all been dragged inside, out of sight, but signs of death lingered even as the shops opened again for trickles of business. Willow clenched her fists on her knees, and made a silent promise to the lurking darkness hiding behind the sunlight.

_Watch out vampires – we're going to take back this town._

o0o_  
_

They got to the school early, before the students had even arrived, and slipped into the library to find a tired looking Giles, huddled over a stack of volumes spread across the table and studiously scrawling notes.

"Rupert, tell me you didn't stay here all night!"

Giles jerked up as Miss Calendar and Willow walked in. His glasses were askew on his nose, his clothes rumpled. "Jenny, Willow! I, ah -" He hastily stood up and began shuffling the papers back together. He avoided the eye of the woman who stood watching him, hand on hip, with a concerned frown.

"No, no I went home but came back at first light. I had a thought about checking the-- "

"Rupert."

He cringed slightly at the stern tone and caught her eye with a small apologetic smile, before gathering his notes into his arms and heading back into the office still mumbling excuses.

Willow hung back at the counter. She had almost forgotten what they were like together. Sure, circumstances here had changed everyone, but they still had an undeniable spark. She fought back a smile as she watched the strangely domestic scene. She wondered where things stood for them here.

Giles re-emerged and glanced at the table, where Jenny was stacking the books he had dragged off the shelves.

"Ah, Willow!" She looked up and smiled in greeting as he approached her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes thanks. Better than you - by the looks of it!" She gestured to his rumpled clothes with a teasing grin. She didn't see the need to bother him by telling the truth about her troubled dreams.

"Yes, well, with the Master still out there, everything must be done. I've been reading up on anything I can. I'm afraid I haven't had time to look into dimensional travel yet." He apologised.

"Oh, that's okay," Willow assured quickly. "Stopping the Master is the most important thing. Top priority, y'know? What can I do to help?"

"Yes, well that's what I was going to say. I think it's best if you stay in my office today. You really shouldn't be at the school at all; everyone here thinks – well, thinks you're dead. You being seen – could raise some, awkward questions."

Willow nodded in understanding. Giles adjusted his glasses as he spoke.

"But the library is usually pretty quiet and I don't know how you are with research but if you could perhaps look through-- "

"Oh, no, research is great! I mean, that was pretty much what we spent most of our time doing. Y'know, Buffy did her slaying thing, and we did the research thing. I'm good with the books and such. I can do a bit of Latin too, and I'm getting better at Gaelic; and I started trying to learn the Runes of Honorius, but I hadn't got very far... But yeah, just call me research girl! Ooh and I can search on the net if you want! I know you don't dig the computers so much."

Giles listened, slightly stunned by the eager girl who had just erupted in enthusiastic babbling. Her eyes shined animatedly as she talked on about knowledge and his mind reeled momentarily at the sheer intelligence she must have displayed. He felt extremely proud for a moment, though he didn't quite know why.

"W-Well, yes. That would be-be wonderful," he stuttered, slightly flustered in the wake of her excitement. Willow beamed happily.

"If you can decipher my hand-writing, the notes should tell you what to look for in the volumes. And if you could, utilise the computer as well, that would be very helpful. I've never had much luck with the damn machines."

Willow laughed and muttered softly, "I know."

Giles looked at her for a moment with a considering tilt of his head. He had to remember to keep in mind that she knew them from her own reality. It was an extraordinary thought.

"Well, I'll be around if you need me. This place is pretty much my domain." With a self-depreciating smile, he wandered back to Miss Calendar at the table and Willow was left to smirk to herself as she headed into the office.

_Some things never change, then._

o0o


	11. Chapter Ten

Big thanks to my lovely reviewers - you guys make my day!

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

It felt good to be back at the research and computer. This was Willow's element, her comfort-zone; it always had been. For most of her life, the social intricacies of school had eluded the shy student. She was content to stay under the radar as much as possible, avoid Cordelia and Co's sniping, and hang out with Xander and Jesse. She didn't get people; they were mean or they ignored her. Technology she could understand – it talked to her. Then Buffy came; the gorgeous popular new girl, and she wanted to know the no-one that was Willow. Friendships bloomed, minds opened up and suddenly the hacker was using her skills to help save the world and her friends' lives. It was incredible. Willow frowned softly; she suddenly wasn't sure if she had ever told Buffy how much everything they had shared had meant to her.

Willow shook her head and brought her mind back to the task. After trawling through the heavy volumes on Giles's desk for a few hours, she had found scarce helpful mentions of the Guild book his notes had pointed to. From what she did manage to glean from the obscure passages, it was the sort of 6th century demon hunters' handbook. She wondered what relevant information Giles was hoping to get from it. Was the Master really that old? Willow shuddered at the thought.

She had since moved onto the computer that sat on the edge of his desk, having first cleared a swamp of papers off the keyboard. It was a new addition to his office; usually Giles left the modern machine behind the counter, out of the way of his books. Maybe it was Miss Calendar's influence.

Her fingers moved with rhythmic taps as she sped through familiar occult web-sites. Eyes sharp and focused as they skimmed the pages of information, searching for key words to jump out.

"Hey."

Willow nearly fell out of her seat as she jerked around. She had been so ensconced in the research, she hadn't heard anyone enter the office. Her heart rate didn't slow down any as she saw who was leaning in the half open doorway.

"Hi."

Her voice sounded breathless to her ears, and Willow ordered herself to get a grip. Oz tilted his head slightly over his shoulder.

"Giles said you were in here. Thought maybe you'd be missing food."

Willow looked dumbly at the wrapped sandwich he handed over. "Um, thanks. That's really n-nice of you." She smiled shyly at him before quickly returning her attention down as she began to peel back the cling-film. She tried to think of something else to say. It shouldn't be this difficult – this was Oz. Why couldn't she talk to him?

"So, do you have a free period now, then?"

"Lunchtime."

"It is?" Willow looked up in surprise before checking her watch. It was one already. "Boy, time really flies when…when you're not finding anything helpful," she finished lamely, her shoulders slumping.

Oz leant back against the wall across from the desk, hands deep in the pockets of his black trousers. "No luck with the research then?"

Willow sighed. "Not really. I mean, any references in the main occult books about this Guild, are pretty generic. I've been searching the web but so far all I can tell is that it was last seen somewhere in Asia in the 8th century, and even that I haven't been able to verify yet."

Oz nodded in silent consideration. Willow took a bite of her sandwich. "Chicken salad," she noted with a smile of approval before digging into the meal. She hadn't realised how hungry she was.

"Best the school canteen leftovers have to offer." She glanced over at him and his mouth twitched in an almost smile. "We don't get out much."

Willow felt her stomach tingle; he always seemed to have that effect on her. It was incredible how Oz was still Oz, no matter what reality.

"So, an alternate universe huh?"

Willow swallowed and watched him apprehensively. His manner was laid back as he studied her across the small room. He actually sounded kind of amused. Willow flashed a nervous smile; only Oz could take something as wacky as inter-dimensional travel in his stride.

"Yeah. Kinda freaky I guess?"

He shrugged. "Just another day in Sunnydale if you ask me; meet and greet centre for the unexplainable."

Willow giggled. "I suppose so. Not many people can say that, can they?"

"Life's certainly never boring."

They shared a friendly smile. Willow felt a heat creep into her face the longer their eyes met. She broke away and looked down. This was hard! She didn't know how she was supposed to act around him. Every part of her was longing to reach out to him; to bury herself in his arms; to feel his beating heart against her chest; his hands in her hair; to know that they were truly together again…yet she stayed in her chair.

"So, how long have you been helping Giles?"

"Not long after the Master rose. Was kinda hard to miss something bad was going on. I wanted to do something." Oz pushed off from the wall and wandered over to the desk, looking down at the open pages laid across it. "Giles is a good guy. He helps people."

Willow cast a side-long look at the quiet boy. As usual, there was so much more unsaid but she didn't push it. She played with the bread of her half-finished sandwich. "Did-did you ever meet me? Th-the other me, I mean. Before…y'know." She sensed Oz look over at her, but didn't raise her eyes.

"No."

His answer was quiet, softly apologetic. Willow nodded tightly, still picking off the sesame seeds.

"You said you knew us. In your Sunnydale."

"I knew Giles; he was Buffy's Watcher. And Miss Calendar was a teacher in school there too. And…you. We-we were friends."

She met his eyes briefly before turning back to the computer screen, setting down the half-eaten roll. Appetite all but gone in the sudden twisting of her stomach. Betraying tears threatened at the edges of her vision. How could she ever tell him the truth? Would he even want to know? She stared at the flickering screen but didn't see the blurry words. They had never even met here. How could she ever hope he would feel the same way about her again?

"You miss them." It wasn't a question. He leant against the edge of the desk, watching her carefully with an unassuming gaze.

"Yes," Willow whispered, hastily wiping at the gathering tears. She couldn't do this. Not right now. Not in front of him.

"I'm sorry."

She could only shake her head, her hands coiling into fists in her lap. His voice was gentle and sincere. How could it hurt so much? She was distracted as another head popped around the door.

"Oz man, class."

The boy gave a silent nod. Mike's eyes rested on Willow for a moment, before he disappeared back into the library. Oz stood up from the table. "See you later."

Willow made a last effort and managed a bright smile as she looked back at him. "Yeah. And thanks - for lunch."

He nodded in response before moving away to meet Mike, who was waiting at the doors.

o0o

"Giles said to gather in the library as usual. Annie's meeting us there. Is your van alright?"

The two boys walked down the sparsely populated halls of the high school. Mike was eying the older boy with a slight frown.

"Yeah, I fixed the side door. We're good to go."

In truth, Oz was only half-listening to the conversation. He couldn't seem to shake the oddly unsettled feeling that had followed him out from the brief meeting with the new girl. The new Willow. A faint frown touched his face for a moment. It felt like something was drifting at the back of his mind; hardly there but there enough to distract him. And the boy didn't think it was totally to do with the strangeness of having staked her vampire double.

"Oz? You alright?"

He looked over at the boy next to him, sharp hazel eyes that were watching him closely.

"Yeah. Just thinking. See you back in the library."

"Uh, okay."

The two parted ways at the entrance to Oz's senior class, leaving Mike to carry on towards his own; concern over his friend nagging at his thoughts.

* * *

**AN** So here it is - the first real Wishverse Willow/Oz interaction, as promised! Reviews are little gold nuggets of inspiration!


	12. Chapter Eleven

Wow -- huge thanks and cyber cookies to all those awesome folks who reviewed! :D You guys motivated me to get this out tonight. So Voila!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Willow spent the rest of the day coping with her turbulent emotions by burying them under as much historical information as she could dredge up. She worked almost feverishly, plunging her way through everything she could get her hands on, regardless of relevance or not. Giles drifted in and out during the afternoon, picking up odd papers or books and casting slightly worried glances at the furiously working girl.

At four o clock, the librarian interrupted her research. Willow jumped as he laid a hand on her shoulder, drawing her abruptly from the passage she had been absorbed in.

"Willow, you should take a break. You've been reading non-stop all day."

She blinked and re-focused on his concerned face, her vision blurred from squinting at a computer screen and closely at fancy writing for hours.

"Giles. I'm sorry – I tried to get through all the volumes you left out, but I couldn't find anything really helpful about the Guild you were looking for. There was a passing reference of it re-surfacing in Russia in the 13th Century but—"

"That's okay, don't worry. It was a long shot anyway, really. Why don't you come out; I could use some help getting things ready for tonight."

"Oh, okay. Sure."

Willow rose to her feet and followed him out the office. She looked around at the fading light and realised, for the first time, how long she had been pouring through the books. She had managed to fill her head with a lot of information, but nothing they could use.

She and Giles worked in companionable quiet, sorting out the weapons in the book cage and laying out a selection on the big table. The collection had grown considerably from what Willow remembered; times had certainly changed. A steely resolve settled over her as she sat down to sharpen a pile of stakes; she was ready to fight for this Sunnydale. New game, same rules –- that was all there was to it. She could do this.

The others drifted in as darkness began to fall. Miss Calendar greeted Willow before joining Giles in the book cage, where they filled two duffel bags with supplies. Mike then filtered in. He cast a quick look at Willow, who was still seated quietly at the table, fiddling with the rough blade and discovering that carving stakes was not nearly as easy as Buffy had made it look.

"Giles, I just saw Oz – he said he would bring the van around back."

"Oh, yes good."

Willow looked up and offered a tentative smile to the boy who was still sending furtive glares in her direction.

"Hey."

He caught her eye for a moment, as if trying to uncover the hidden threat in her greeting. "Yeah, hi." He answered quickly and ran a hand through his hazel hair, ruffling the slight curls into a casual disarray, as he slowly approached the table. "You coming out with us tonight then?"

"Yes. Well, I'd like to. You okay with that?"

Willow decided polite diplomacy would be the best way to confront the barely concealed mistrust and resentment in his tone. Mike shrugged and didn't look up as he continued to lightly finger the ornate axe he had picked off the table.

"Guess so."

The doors swung again and the last member of their party strode into the room. Giles walked out of the cage, carrying one of the duffel bags, followed closely by Jenny.

"Ah Annie, good to see you."

Her glinting eyes paused at red-head and narrowed almost imperceptibly. Willow shrunk back slightly and lowered her gaze. She was getting pretty sick of the suspicious stares but there wasn't a lot she could do about it.

"Yeah. Are we ready?"

Apparently she wasn't much for small talk. The tension of the coming night was heavy over everyone in the room as they looked to Giles for confirmation.

"Yes, I think so."

There was silence as people began moving. Giles and Jenny led the way through to the back entrance with Mike close behind. Annie grabbed a cross bow off the table as she whisked past Willow; evidently her weapon of choice. The tense assurance in her movements reminded Willow of Buffy when she was focused on a single goal. That kind of single-minded determination was okay for the Slayer, but it could lead to reckless actions in others.

_Ha, look who's talking_.

A small sardonic smile flitted across her lips. Yet Willow couldn't help the sudden thought that struck her. Was it possible that this blunt, slightly scary, dark haired young woman – could she be a Slayer also? _The_ Slayer of this world, now? Willow slipped on the slightly too big jacket she had borrowed from Miss Calendar, along with the rest of her outfit. After a minute of consideration however, she dismissed the idea with a small shake of her head. Someone would have mentioned it surely. Besides, Willow thought as she slid the stakes and cross into the jacket pockets and ran to catch up with the others, Annie's reactions didn't seem as sharp as Buffy's had been.

o0o

They came out into the night to find Oz's blue van idling in the empty car park. Willow followed the others into the back of the vehicle and settled down on the floor as Annie slid the door shut with a bang.

"Easy Annie! Oz had to weld the hinges just the other day."

"Sorry."

The driver shrugged it off and threw the van into gear. Willow, meanwhile, found herself very distracted by the strong Oz presence that filled the familiar van. His smell, the stray shirts and clothes that lay tossed in a corner and the few dog-eared books that poked out from underneath. She glimpsed an old, faded and torn concert poster for a group she didn't recognise, tacked up on the side across from her; along with various other unique and odd objects of his personality that had found their way in over time. The space where his guitar had usually been, along with the rest of the band's equipment on occasions, was packed up instead with reserve weapons. How many times had she sat in this van with him? Talking across the front seats; just being together here in the back -- enjoying their precious alone time. Willow blushed furiously in the dim light. This had been their place.

"S-so what's the plan? Do you guys just drive around looking for trouble and then - jump in? Not that that's not a good plan! That is the plan right? I should be quiet shouldn't I? Sorry."

Willow knew she was babbling, as she always did when in a stressful situation. So she let her mouth dig her into a ditch, desperate as she was to stop her mind from dwelling on very private memories and the crazy emotions they brought up.

In the front seat, a small smirk curved Oz's mouth.

"Willow, its okay." She felt a hand touch her arm and squinted in the low light at Miss Calendar's reassuring smile. Giles spoke up from the seat next to Oz.

"Yes, I-I'm afraid we can't do much else now. We do know their common hunting grounds though."

Willow nodded and silence settled inside the van again.

o0o

The strain of anticipation on Willow's nerves was just beginning to get unbearable, when the van suddenly lurched to the left. Her shoulder bashed into the metal frame as everyone in the back braced themselves at the abrupt movement.

"Giles?!"

It was Oz that answered. "Undead party kicking off in the park."

He slammed the van to a stop and Annie pushed Willow out the way, reaching for the door handle.

"Show time!" Mike announced in a tight voice, as he followed the young woman out the side door and into the night. Giles had already jumped down from the front, and Willow practically fell out the van as she scrambled to follow the others.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she looked across the grass and saw the aforementioned partyers ganged around five teenagers. The vampires had over-powered the easy prey and were already sinking their teeth into their prizes; the sounds of shouts and screaming echoed in the night as the unsuspecting kids were grabbed and devoured. Who would still be stupid enough to be out at night in this Sunnydale?! _Well apart from us_, Willow thought wryly.

She raced towards them and watched as Annie and Mike barrelled into the group, stakes raised and arrows flying. Annie's shot was on target and a young woman with waves of platinum blonde hair, cried out in surprise as she exploded into dust. With angry hisses, the fanged predators broke apart to confront the attackers. There were more of them than she had first thought. Some scattered into the night, dragging their victims into the darkness. Willow dodged a vamp that lunged right at her and took off after one that was pulling a struggling girl by her neck into the trees. The sounds of fighting filled her ears, but she kept her sights fixed ahead. The vampire suddenly stopped and gripped the girl's head; he'd obviously decided she was easier to carry dead and eat later. In desperation, Willow grabbed the stake in her pocket and flung it through the air, as she had once seen Oz try to do. He was right – it didn't ever work. And Willow's aim was no match for Buffy's, but she didn't need it to hit his heart – just close enough to get his attention. She was lucky; her throw made the vampire recoil to the side as it sailed just wide of his shoulder. His stumble made him drop the girl, who cried out as she hit the ground and tried to stagger to her feet.

Willow was breathing hard as she reached them, and with the crucifix outstretched she quickly placed herself between the vampire and his victim.

"Run!"

The terrified girl didn't need telling twice and bolted as fast as her shaking legs would carry her.

The vampire snarled viciously at his lost meal and rounded on Willow. An athletic kick caught her by surprise and the cross flew out of her hand. Ducking sharply, she narrowly avoided another aimed at her head. Willow straightened and backed away; keeping an eye on the approaching vamp as she slipped another stake out of her pocket. With bared teeth he abruptly rushed forward and the stake jammed into his chest as he knocked them both to the ground. But he didn't explode.

_Oops! Not the heart!_

The vampire grunted in pain at the non-fatal injury as Willow squirmed and gasped under his weight. This was not good. She jerked her head to the side and glimpsed the cross lying in the grass a distance away from her. She couldn't reach it. Unless…Willow fought to keep his teeth away from her neck and squeezed her eyes closed. Sparks tingled through her arm. Concentrate. His fangs were inches from her skin…Her eyes snapped open as she felt the cross fly into her outstretched hand. Without wasting a second, Willow slammed the object into the side of his head. Flesh sizzled and the vampire cried out, allowing her the chance to grab the stake in his chest and yank it free as he rolled off her. In one movement, she leant over him as he clawed at his head, and rammed the barely removed stake home once more.

Willow coughed and fell back on the grass as the cloud of dust filled the air. There was no time to recover though; the fight still raged on and Willow scrambled up, armed with the cross and stake again and hurled back into the fray. She spotted Miss Calendar falling back from a large bear of a vampire that had to be twice her size, but before she could reach her, Giles appeared out of nowhere. The vamp grabbed the librarian around the neck and lifted him easily off his feet. Willow called out in panic, but suddenly Giles's floundering arm swiped forward and with angry growl, the bear combusted. Willow glanced Miss Calendar helping Giles to his feet, before she had to jump out the way as Annie shoved her attacker over a park bench just behind her.

"Move!"

Willow did, and narrowly avoided an arrow that shot towards the retreating back of the vampire that had struggled to her feet and was making a break for it. The arrow flew wide and Annie cursed. Willow turned around to see a leather coated figure backing into her, as they fought someone else. A loud growl signalled foe and Willow took advantage of their distraction, slamming her stake through their unsuspecting back. Apparently her aim was getting better. Through the sudden shower of dust, Willow glimpsed a ragged Mike who looked slightly shocked at the abrupt disappearance of his opponent. He locked eyes with Willow and opened his mouth, when his eyes suddenly grew round and he shouted out in a heavy breath.

"Duck!"

Willow did as she was told as Mike stepped forward and swung his axe round above her head. More dust rained down on Willow as she slowly stood back up, looking over her shoulder before back at a panting Mike.

"Thanks."

He managed a small smile.

"Oz!"

Both spun round at the frantic cry to see Annie racing back towards the van, where Oz was fighting two against one as he attempted to guard the vehicle. Willow's eyes widened as she saw them throw the smaller boy against the side of the van and lift him up. She was running before she even realised it; dread fastened around her lungs, squeezing the air out of her chest. Oz kicked out forcefully and one of the vampires fell back. Annie beat her there and Willow watched as she dodged under the vamp's arm as he groped for her and seized his jacket, pulling him off Oz. The second got to his feet but was immediately tackled by Willow who hit at him with such desperate ferocity, he could barely get a grip on her. Annie's vampire caught her kick and spun her round, sending her crashing to the hard dirt. He advanced menacingly but upon seeing the others rapidly approaching he thought better of it.

"Bloody White Hats!" he growled vehemently before turning and melting into the darkness.

The vampire Willow had knocked down finally grabbed her flailing fists and flipped them over, crushing her against the ground. It was only then she realised she had dropped her cross and stake in the run over._ Oh well done Willow!_

The vampire leered over her, yellow eyes gleaming in hunger and victory. Suddenly, they widened in shock and then his weight vanished as it dissolved to dust.

"Willow?"

Giles's concerned face looked down at her as she lay slightly stunned upon the grass. She nodded to indicate she was okay and accepted his hand as he helped her to her feet.

"Is that the last of them?"

Miss Calendar appeared beside them, her hair slightly wild around her dirty face.

"I-I think so." Giles peered about them before clutching his shoulder with a small grimace.

"A lot took off, but all the kids were safe. Well -- alive."

Giles turned as Mike walked up to them; blood glinting off the silver axe hanging limply from his hand. A fresh slash ran along his hairline. He wiped at it, smearing blood across his forehead.

"Last time I saw them anyway."

Giles nodded and cast an eye over the assembled group. Willow followed his gaze to where Annie was huddled next to Oz at the side of the van. They were talking in low voices. Oz's head was turned away from her, but even from here she could see Annie's face was creased in concern, her eyes soft. Willow felt her stomach clench in knots as she watched them. Annie raised a hand to the side of his face and Willow's heart plummeted painfully in her chest. She looked down at her feet, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

"W-well, I think we should head back for now. We all need to recover a bit I think."

Oz and Annie looked over at Giles's voice and motioned their agreement. Annie pulled open the sliding door and slipped inside.

"I guess party crashers are never popular," Oz said thoughtfully, rubbing his arm across the back of his head. Giles looked the boy over.

"Do you want me to drive back?"

"No, I'm fine."

He would never admit it out loud, but Oz was quite protective of his old van. In all its battered and barely working glory. It was home in a lot of ways and it would be a strangely emotional day for him when it finally gave up the fight. But for as long as he could repair it, he would.

Willow stumbled in a daze towards the vehicle. She was glad they were going back; she ached all over. Mike held the door open and let her in ahead of him. Willow shrunk back against the interior and drew her knees up to her chest. Soon they were all bundled back inside and Oz set the van in the direction of the school. Willow stared resolutely at the floral pattern of the skirt she had borrowed from Miss Calendar, not trusting herself to look up and catch sight of Annie in the dim light. She was determined to keep a tight reign on her emotions until she wasn't bottled up in a confined space with people.

o0o

They made it back to the school and filed into the library, rather subdued. The heavy fight had exhausted everyone and they were all worse for wear. Weapons clattered down on the table and people collapsed into chairs. Jenny walked over to Giles who had moved behind the counter to collect the extensive first aid box. She placed a hand on his arm, speaking quietly.

"Rupert, they're getting bolder. We've not encountered quite so many of them all together in some time."

Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I know. There was a lull in activity just after…But now. I-I fear the Master is growing even stronger. The stakes can't be raised much higher."

Jenny squeezed his arm. "We'll find something."

He looked into her warm eyes and was suddenly sure that they would. "Thank you," he muttered softly. She smiled and took the box from his grasp, turning to head back to the table.

Mike and Oz were already tidying the weapons back into the book cage as Jenny approached.

"Here Mike. You should clean up that cut before you head home."

The boy nodded and left Oz by the weapons cupboard to pick up the first aid box and head out to the bathrooms. It was easier than arguing with the stern teacher. Annie was rummaging around in one of the duffel bags and pulled out a roll of gauze. She sat with one leg up on the table and proceeded to pull up her ripped trouser to clean a deep bloody gash just under her kneecap. She wrapped the length of medical gauze around her leg with the casualness of one for whom it was routine.

Willow had retreated to the steps and was currently huddled next to the railing, her fingers gripped around the wooden spindle for support. Her eyes occasionally travelled to Oz and then over to Annie, before falling to the floor again. The image of them was imprinted in front of her and she couldn't stand it. Rampaging jealously and sickening despair stormed inside her, making her dizzy.

Oz and Annie…Willow closed her eyes and fought back the lurking tears. She hadn't even thought of anything like this. Bitter anger suddenly shot to the forefront of her emotions. How could she have been so stupid? So selfish and blind to not even consider that Oz could already have someone in this reality? He wasn't her Oz. A traitorous tear slipped from under her closed eyes and Willow hurriedly wiped it away. She hadn't considered Oz would have fallen in love with someone else. She hadn't considered so much before risking everything and dropping herself into this place, this world where she didn't belong. Oz didn't know her. He hadn't even met her before. He didn't love her…

A broken breath escaped her lungs. She saw so clearly now what an idiot she had been. The boy here wasn't the Oz she had lost. He had his own life, his own history, his own love…and it didn't include Willow. She felt the cruel realisation ripping into her heart, but she forced herself not to turn away. It was the truth. Willow suddenly missed Buffy more than ever. She wished so hard to just be able to talk to her again; tell her what a terrible mess she had gotten herself into; tell her how much it hurt; to have Buffy's understanding face and soothing voice. They had been there for each other through so much. It seemed unthinkable that she couldn't turn to the Slayer now, when she needed her brave and caring friend the most.

But Buffy wasn't there. She was alone; and it was all her fault. Her head fell into her hands and she finally let the tears flow under her closed fingers.

"Willow?"

She quickly rubbed at her wet cheeks before looking up. Miss Calendar frowned at the girl's increasingly pale face and distressed gaze.

"What's wrong?"

Willow wiped at her eyes again and tried to smile at the concerned teacher. "Actually, I-I think I hit my head harder than I thought. I don't feel so good."

"Oh, of course. Come on, I'll take you home."

o0o


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Buffy was numb.

Blinking slowly, she sunk down onto the rumpled covers of Willow's bed, unfeeling fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the mattress. She had passed the frantic stage about two minutes after she had forced open the patio door that now hung pitifully on splintered hinges; concern quickly giving way to panic when her increasingly worried knocks had rendered no response. She barely recalled speaking to Giles. She couldn't say when he had turned up to join her in the empty Rosenberg house, bringing with him a very agitated Xander, whose face had promptly fallen into horrified shock as he flung himself into the bedroom.

Dazed eyes swept over the frightening state of her best friend's familiar room for the hundredth time, and it still sent a shiver of disbelief through her body. She wasn't sure if she had moved since she'd made the call. Her mind was empty -- only one thought pounding in her dulled skull relentlessly. Willow was gone. And whatever had happened, had obviously happened right here in this room. Until they figured out what that was, there was nowhere for her to go. The phone by the side of the unslept-in bed had borne the brunt of the Slayer's anxiety. Left where it had dropped upon the table; cracked plastic shell split open like a discarded husk, laying bare it's brightly coloured innards.

"What the hell?" Xander breathed as he stood, frozen, trying to take in the chaos before him. Furniture was shoved around; papers, clothes and any other items that had been in the path of whatever struggle had happened were tossed in haphazard heaps. The scariest sight however, that he could barely drag his eyes away from, was the peeling tar-black web left behind from scorching flames that scarred the ceiling above them.

He turned dumbly round to Buffy who was nearly ripping the covers apart under her fists but seemed completely oblivious to her own strength, as she looked out blankly. He found his voice at last, since it seemed no-one else was going to.

"This is Hellmouth M.O. right?"

His eyes moved from Buffy to Giles who was slowly picking up the scattered mess on the floor, straightening up and tidying almost distractedly, as if he found the small steady actions calming and reassuring. When neither seemed to hear him, Xander felt his impatience rising. They were wasting time!

"Look around! There was obviously a fight! She didn't go willingly! Willow's missing, and we need to find her! We can't just stand here -- we need an action plan! What demons have this kind of fire-power?" He stared pointedly at Giles who didn't meet his eye before turning imploringly to the immobilised Slayer. "Snap out of it Buffy! Help me out here!"

Buffy looked up finally to meet her friend's desperate gaze, and managed to half-form a sympathetic smile.

Her Slayer instincts had jumped to exactly the same conclusion at the initial sight of Willow's disappearance. It was a pretty natural assumption when one lived on a gateway to Hell and battled the most gruesome forms of evil on a frequent basis. And in a way, she quietly admitted to herself, it was safe. Fighting evil was what she did, what she was built for. Something she could do better than anyone else. All her panicked fear had instantly hardened into Slayer resolve, and she was more than ready to charge off and track down the monsters responsible and bring her friend back. She wasn't going to lose anyone else; she wouldn't let anything take Willow. But her fast and sharp observations had equally proceeded to pull the rug out from under her, and on closer inspection she couldn't stop the rational deductions that forced their way into her mind, leaving her somewhat paralysed and out of her arena. Take away something for her to fight, and Buffy felt horribly helpless.

Now as she looked up at her best friend's earnest and pleading face, teetering on the edge of outright panic, she forced her reluctant voice from her throat.

"I can't." She looked away from his confused and angry stare, gesturing limply out to the space in front of her. "Look around you, Xander. All the burnt-out candles, the spilled bowl, the knife, spell books…" She swallowed thickly, her hand dropping back down. "Doesn't this seem like Willow and her magics to you?"

Xander faltered, his mouth open in a retort that left him as he took in the room again, Buffy's words ringing in his ears. The truth smacked into him like many a vampire's fist had before, knocking him speechless for a moment.

"But...why?"

The slow response came quietly, in a tone of hurt bemusement that Buffy whole-heartedly understood. She shook her head, even as she tried to form an answer.

"She loved him. Maybe…maybe she was trying a, a resurrection spell or something? A spell to forget? Something too heavy, out of her league, and…"

And what? Buffy shut her mouth tight, refusing to contemplate the outcomes. She should have seen something like this coming. She'd seen the desperate loss in her friend's eyes. She'd felt her gut instinct, and she hadn't followed it. And now it had cost them everything. There was no doubt in her mind that whatever had happened, had happened by the own hand of her grief-stricken friend. Because she had lost the person she loved; and she couldn't bear to miss him for the rest of her life.

She should never have left her alone.

Xander's jaw clenched as he unconsciously backed up a step, retreating from the evidence the surrounded him. He almost wanted to laugh, anything to break the oppressive quiet that seemed unbearably loud without Will's awkward babble that should have been there. To release the bubbling fear and anger that seethed up inside him; a meek attempt to dismiss the cold hard facts before him. The laugh of dry hysteria continued to build in his chest. How much worse could things get? How much could their lives change beyond all recognition in a mere twenty-four hours? With great restraint, he kept himself from uttering the jinx out loud. He'd learnt his lesson when it came to tempting fate in Sunnydale.

_Willow_. His eyes fell on the blood stained knife in the middle of the cluttered circles of toppled candles. His stomach suddenly felt hollow. He should have been here with her.

"Well-Well then we need to figure out what she did, right?"

He looked around at the silent forms that shared the unnaturally bleak room with him. He wasn't prepared to give up. No way in Hellmouth. If Will did this, there must be a way to undo it. He loved her and he'd never say it to her face, but she was still a learning witch. How much damage could she do? He refused to let his eyes drift up to the inferno marked roof.

"Maybe she cast a spell and went to see if it worked?" Frustrated by their lack of response, Xander kept throwing out suggestions with increasing desperation. "Come on guys! This is Willow – we have to find her!" he exclaimed loudly, trying to break through the stupor that seemed to have settled over his friends. He would save her all by himself if he had to. He would find her and when he did, he would quite possibly never let her out of his embrace ever again.

Buffy seemed to shake herself out of her head, her eyes focusing and growing alert as she nodded slowly. "Yes, yes of course we will." She looked over to Xander and flashed a small grateful smile. The numbness was receding in the warmth of her friend's determination, and Buffy was beginning to feel like herself again. From what Willow had told her, magic always left a trace. They would find out what had happened; even if Willow didn't want to be found right now.

"You're right. There must be something here that can tell us what spell she was trying to pull. We figure that out and then work forwards."

"Like a trail of magical breadcrumbs?" Xander tried to joke, immensely relieved that Buffy had come to her senses and was ready to act. Having the Slayer back at full-power would make the whole process go a lot quicker.

Buffy smiled back before looking across the upsetting state of the room with fresh resolve. She banished the doubts and fears to the back of her mind and stood up, moving over to sift through the mess in search of clues. She felt Xander moving around behind her, picking up books and notepads, trying to decipher which were relevant to their search. This might be harder than she thought, neither of them were what you'd call experts in this field. Frowning suddenly, Buffy straightened up and turned her attention to the motionless figure that stood with his back to them both, in front of Willow's cluttered desk.

"Giles?" she questioned with concern. The Watcher had not said a word since he'd entered. She sensed Xander stop and look over in his direction also. As she stepped closer she saw the librarian had his head bent over a heavy tome, bound in black leather. He continued to intently scan the open pages in his hands, apparently oblivious to her call and their stares.

"Giles? Is that...is that something that can help us? Do you know what Willow was trying to do?"

She watched Giles flinch slightly as she broke through his concentration. He turned round as if just remembering they were there. Buffy saw the pained look that flashed across his face at her hopeful words, and unconsciously retreated a few steps. She knew that look. That was a no good news look. And she didn't want to hear it. She shifted her eyes to the book in his hands and glared hard at it as if she could make it disappear. She didn't want to know.

Giles forced himself to face the expectant teenagers that watched him closely with mixed expressions. He had missed most of their conversation and had nearly forgotten exactly where he was. During the whole ride across town, in which he had narrowly avoided collisions and being pulled over by police as he raced his old banger of a car along with reckless disregard, he had done a pretty good job of convincing himself that Buffy was assuming the worst. That Willow may well have just gone somewhere to be alone. All that careful delusion had splintered as he saw the obvious after-effects of explosive magic that ravaged the gifted girl's room. And it had proceeded to shatter irrevocably when he'd lifted that ancient, heavily bound volume from the centre of the spell debris on her floor. He hadn't been aware of anything else since, until Buffy's optimistic voice had broken through his deafening anxiety and guilt.

With a deep sigh, he carefully lowered himself down into the desk chair beside him; terrible shock still wreaking havoc through his system. "She's not here," he uttered softly, unable to look up. There was a pause before he heard Xander's defensive retort.

"Hey, the job of pointing out the obvious is taken!" But the boy's voice was weak and wavered slightly in uncertainty.

Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with one hand. Oh god, how to explain this to them. The Watcher suddenly felt old beyond his years. He had a feeling they would all be a few years older by the time they left this room this day. He raised his head and looked again at the telltale components across the floor in front of Willow's bed. He felt his heart drop in his chest with despair. There was no mistake. He repeated the archaic verse under his breath, still somewhat in disbelief.

"In English, Giles."

At Buffy's muttered command, the Watcher finally turned to look at them both. Her best friends. He swallowed and cleared his throat, putting his glasses back on and straightening in the awkward swivel chair. "It-It's from a very ancient spell. Loosely translated it says: 'Sewn with life, forged in fire, sealed with blood'. It's, well it's a-a spell of passage."

He tried to gauge a reaction from the faces before him, but mainly he was met with furrowed brows and confused gazes. Clearly more explanation on his part was expected. He cast a glance down at the book on his lap, before removing his glasses once more to compulsively rub the spotless lenses with the edge of his blazer.

"This book, it's a collection of some of the, the darkest and most powerful spells ever committed to page. It was thought lost until this tome fell into the possession of the Council about two hundred years ago."

Giles paused over his words which, given his recent attitude shift with the council, he was inclined to believe was a rather white-washed version of history. It seemed likely that it was less given into their care as strong-armed with threat and deceit away from its previous caretaker. His lip curled with distaste for a moment at the institution he had once held in such high regard. How much they were all deceived and manipulated, by allies as well as enemies. With a grimace, the disgraced Watcher brought his thoughts reluctantly back to the painful subject at hand.

He took a deep breath. "The magic contained was deemed too powerful and dangerous, and classed as forbidden. If, if Willow's done what I think…" He felt the fragile frame of his glasses crack warningly under his anxious hands, and he quickly pulled them up, sliding them onto his nose once more.

"Giles -- what?!" The edgy demand fell from Xander's lips as he watched the older man hesitate yet again, with increasing frustration.

Giles sighed. "T-The spell she used is perhaps the oldest in existence. From what researchers and translators in the Council could gather, it granted the caster passage to manifest amongst the very forces of existence. They deduced it was utilised for the purpose of putting a request to the very powers of our world. Yet to bargain with the ultimate powers is incredibly dangerous. They can't be tricked or fought off. The caster would be granted a hearing -- in exchange for their life."

Buffy felt the back of her knees hit the bed and soon the rest of her body followed, as she dropped down in shock. She stared at Giles wide-eyed as she tried to soak in his words. Xander looked at the Watcher like he had just sprouted feathered antlers. The words leaving his mouth made no sense.

"A-Are you saying -- she's…" _Dead. _No. He couldn't say it. He wouldn't. Cause it wasn't true. Xander ran a hand through his hair and viciously kicked a stray candle, sending it thudding into the broken wood of the patio door. He felt a little better. Now if he could just get Giles to speak sense and help them find Willow, he might feel sane again.

"I-I don't...know." Giles's voice was deeply apologetic, more uncertain than they had ever heard the Watcher. And that was more unsettling than either would admit.

Xander couldn't handle the surge of confusion that finally bubbled over his defences. He was angry, frustrated and so terrified he thought he might explode. He needed something to blame. Something to unleash his volatile fear at.

"What do you mean you don't know?! And how the hell did Willow get a book like that in the first place?" He demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the offending object in the librarian's grip.

Giles winced at the boy's sharp words, his hands tightening around the tome in his lap. He felt the iron fist of guilt squeeze tighter around his heart with a physical pain. He'd recognised the dangerous spell book the instant he had seen it. The horrific realisation had knocked the air out of him. He closed his eyes. She must have taken it from the library office one time when he had been careless enough to leave it out. Usually it was locked tight away with the other darker magical books; and for the life of him the Watcher couldn't fathom what had possessed him to dig it out. The problem with their lives was that there was always another crisis to distract them, to drive other less-pressing thoughts from his head. Giles's face creased in a grimace before he forced himself to open his eyes again. He'd never even thought to check if it was missing. Unforgivable.

He had no doubt she'd had every intention of returning it. It would just be the eager girl's natural thirst for knowledge getting the best of her. A pained smile tugged half-heartedly at his lips. Just like Willow.

He sighed heavily. "It was never meant to be seen. I usually kept it under lock and key. She must have-" He was interrupted by a furious exclamation.

"What the hell, Giles! You kept forbidden magic mojo books just lying around in the library?! You know what Willow's like -- she wouldn't be able to resist. What were you thinking?!"

The Watcher looked up at Xander's fuming face. His fists were clenched and his body trembled slightly; he looked dangerously close to lashing out at his friend. Giles dropped his gaze in agonising guilt. He would deserve it too. He knew how much the boy loved her and how protective he was. His carelessness had cost them all.

"It's not his fault, Xander."

His head snapped towards the firm voice. The Slayer looked sadly back at him from the bed, eyes silently asking for peace. But he was in no mood to be forgiving.

"I beg to differ." He turned back to the older man still seated, unmoving, at the desk. His voice shook with resentment, barely containing his messed up emotions. "_You_ were the one who stopped us going to her last night," he accused vehemently. " 'Give her tonight. She'll be fine until tomorrow' -- what the hell did you know?! We left her devastated and alone to cast some scary dark Wiccan stuff or whatever, that's taken her god knows where! She's _gone_ Giles! Do you even care?! It-"

"Don't you **dare**!"

Giles nearly flung himself to his feet in his anger. He ripped off his glasses and jabbed them towards Xander in a tense warning. The boy faltered for a second at the explosive exclamation, before his own emotions riled up and he glared back mutinously at the suddenly animated Watcher. He opened his mouth, but Giles wasn't done.

"Don't you _ever_ suggest that I don't care about Willow! You think I don't blame myself already? I won't ever forgive myself for this. But I acted how I saw best, I never thought anything like this would happen. If there was something I could do to take back… I would do anything to help her!"

"Bit late now isn't it?! Why don't -"

"Guys -- stop it!" Buffy leapt to her feet, shouting to be heard over her arguing friends as she pushed herself between them. "Just stop! This isn't helping anyone!" She glared at each of them sternly, muscles tense and ready to physically pull them apart if they weren't prepared to listen. Fortunately for them, her words seemed to have brought them back to their senses and with a sigh of relief she watched both men nod in acquiesce as they backed off.

"Good. Guys we need to focus on finding Willow. So, at least we- we know what she tried to do. That's a start right? We just have to figure out how to bring her back."

Xander nodded in agreement. Buffy turned to Giles and felt her stomach lurch unpleasantly as he refused to meet her eye.

"I-I'm not sure we can Buffy." The quiet words appeared to physically pain him.

"No wait, I know you said she's done some sort of mystical conference call or whatever with the powers that be, but she still has to be _somewhere. _She can't have just vanished without any trace!" Buffy's voice rose slightly in desperation. She stepped closer to her Watcher, pleading for him to give her something. Something she could work with. Anything. He was supposed to help her, not tell her there was nothing she could do!

Giles looked to the panicked Slayer and felt his heart twist in his chest. "It's not that simple Buffy. The spell is irreversible. Without knowing what she asked, how they judged her…There's no way to trace this kind of magic, it's beyond our-"

"Oz," Buffy interrupted softly. Her eyes had drifted to the floor. Slowly she bent down, retrieving a silver picture frame from where it had fallen by the edge of the desk. Her thumbs brushed gently against the glass, over the motionless image of her smiling friends, frozen in a moment of happiness that they would never get back. She felt her eyes sting and breathed deeply, not looking up from the faces that proceeded to crush her heart in painful bruises. "She'll ask for Oz back."

Buffy knew that surer than anything. If there was anyway for her to have brought Angel back from hell she would have done it – short of destroying the world of course. As it turned out, unknown powers had done that for her after all. Yet as much as she was joyously grateful for her own luck, it didn't seem fair somehow.

"Yes. Yes I expect she did."

"But...he's not here." Xander spoke up from the other side of the room, looking about them in agitated confusion. As if expecting the quiet guitarist to materialise in front of them, raise an eyebrow and shrug in surprise at all the fuss he'd caused. "Neither of them -- are here." He caught Giles's eye, all accusation faded to unconcealed fear. "What does that mean?" His voice dropped almost too low to hear, yet the words seemed to echo around them all.

The Watcher felt two pairs of concerned eyes burn into him, hanging on his answer. On his apparently infallible knowledge. Waiting for him to make things alright. Daring him to try and take away their hope.

"I- I don't know." He finally admitted with a deep weariness. "I can't pretend to say I know with any degree of certainty the ins and outs of this kind of magic. This level of power. I don't know what could have happened; these circumstances are absolutely unprecedented."

The older man felt the freezing sorrow and guilt soak into his heart, weighing him down. The room filled up with silence as the friends of Willow Rosenberg fell into the private hell of their own minds.

The Watcher couldn't bear to process the possible results of the young witch's actions. If she had somehow struck a deal, anything could have happened -- she could be anywhere. If she'd failed… Giles turned away towards the wall and rubbed the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

All he knew for sure was that she was nowhere to be found in their world. Not anymore.

Xander's eyes darted in horror as his mind slowly broke down, bit by bit. Willow couldn't be gone. Little Willow who cried when she broke yellow crayons. Will who sat and cheered through his Snoopy dance routine every Christmas. Willow who he'd held in his arms not twelve hours ago when her world had disintegrated to ash around her.

Will, who he was going to end up in neighbouring nursing homes with. That was going to be their future. She was always there. The one constant in his life. His best friend in the whole world.

Unable to think anymore, he crossed the room, flinging open the wrecked door in a crunch of splintered wood, and disappeared out into the devastating crystal clear rays of morning.

Buffy dimly registered the abrupt noise of Xander's exit, but her eyes didn't shift from the mocking picture in her hands. The familiar bright smile grinned back from the other side of the camera as the glowing redhead leant back in her boyfriend's arms on the courtyard bench, both happily unconcerned by the crowds of students that surrounded them.

She remembered taking this photo.

With a sharp crack, the glass fractured in the Slayer's hands. The single split running like a fault line through the picture, down between the missing couple.

_Willow -- what have you done?_

o0o

* * *

**AN** Wow it feels good to be back! Sorry for the delay - I was held slave to writer's block these past weeks. My muse left the country; work conspired to make me a walking zombie and this scene just absolutely refused to be written! So let me know what you think? Anyway, here's hoping my muse is back to stay for a while.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Here you go folks! I'm so happy people seemed to like the Buffyverse chapter, it was rough to see how the regular Scoobies are coping. Poor guys. Anyway, time to check back in with Willow in the Wishverse - who's not doing much better! :(

As always - enjoy and please review

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

'_Come on, __I'll take you home'_

Home.

No. That was the one place she could never get back to.

That door had shut forever; cutting her off from her friends and her world, leaving each on opposite sides of the gaping divide. And she could scream and cry, and pound the sealed door with bruised fists and helpless kicks as much as she wanted – it would never re-open for them. Painful pangs of regret tore through her heart like barbed wire; yet there was nothing to be done. It would never be alright again. And she had been the one to walk through the breach willingly, letting it lock behind her. She had done this to her life; to all of them. And for what?!

A stupid misguided wish.

Willow sighed and rolled onto her back. Gazing up at the gloomy ceiling, she twisted the bed covers into knots. She couldn't go on like this. Her eyes lowered as she remembered the worried glances cast her way during the silent ride back through town. She felt guilty about not staying to help the others, but the thought of being around Oz - around him and her together…With a huff, Willow threw herself onto her side and buried her face into the pillow, trying in vain to get comfortable. Sleep had eluded her so far, and her frustration was growing and adding to her general melee of emotions.

Yet, she was going to have to start dealing with it soon. She could hardly avoid them without walking away from the only resistance standing up to the evil in this town. And Willow knew she couldn't do that. The fight was all she had to cling to now. Maybe if she threw herself deep enough into stopping the Master, she could get through it. Maybe she would stop feeling like grabbing this world between her clenched hands and tearing each thread of reality into bloody shreds, soaked with unfairness and despair.

She shook her head and fresh teardrops spilled onto her lilac pillow, staining the material in dark blotches. It felt like Fate was laughing at her; the sad joke that was Willow's life.

_"Oh, I am fortune's fool!"_

The quote from an English class a long time ago rang through her head. Boy, did Shakespeare have it right. It was surely some kind of cruel trick that Willow had given up so much to get here, only to be forced to watch him be with another. To keep losing the only one she had sacrificed her own life to find again.

She was stuck here. And it was all because of her. A rash choice of her own doing that had lost her everything.

Buffy would have known what to say. Comforted as only a fellow war-torn victim of love could do; before offering to kick his ass. Xander would have performed the wonderfully impossible and made her laugh. Would've wrapped her up in his big crushing hug like he had done ever since they were children. Giles would have consoled her awkwardly but the affection would have been heart-felt. But she had turned away from all of them, in a single act of thoughtless desperation that couldn't be undone. And now she'd never see them again. Willow's fists beat into the soft pillow as she struggled to stop the hopeless tears. What had she done?!

The thought of cursing the pretty dark-haired woman who had unwittingly ruined her life, suddenly flashed through her mind like a crack of ominous thunder. Her shining eyes widened slightly, sparking in fevered thought. She could do it easily. Willow was slightly shocked by the potency of that desire. How much the idea of using her magic against the one who had wronged her, no matter how unintentional, appealed to her. There were plenty of spells out there created for this very purpose; to aid lovers in revenge, to manipulate circumstances. Willow allowed herself to indulge in the vindictive fantasy for a long tantalizing moment before finally shoving it away. Her body slumped as she fell back into the bed. Reluctantly, she admitted no matter how much bittersweet satisfaction it would give her, it was still wrong and unjustified. She couldn't do it. Oz had a right to be happy, to make his own choices. And he'd chosen Annie.

But try as she did to convince herself she could eventually learn to live with her terrible mistake; to somehow deal with the loneliness of the dark world she was left in; and that one day she would be able to be around them without feeling like someone had punched her in the gut - the thought of someone else making Oz happy, still felt all wrong to her. That she had lost that place in his life, in his heart… She knew it was selfish and irrational to feel like that, but that didn't help her sleep any better and Willow continued to toss and turn for the rest of the night.

o0o

"Good morning. Are you feeling any better?"

Willow forced herself to smile as she poured a glass of orange. "Yes, thanks. I-I'm sorry about last night"

Jenny waved off her apologies and stood up from the table, clicking down the lid of her laptop. "Rupert called to ask if you felt up for patrol again tonight, but I don't want you to push yourself if you're still feeling unsteady"

Willow took a long drink, stalling her answer. After a moment she pulled the glass from her lips and looked over at the teacher, who was watching her closely. "No, I'll come. You don't have to worry, really. I was just a little woozy last night, but I'm fine now." She couldn't put off seeing them forever, and there was still evil to defeat. Better rip off the plaster now and get it over with, Willow thought grimly.

The perceptive gypsy noticed the slight grimace that flashed across her lodger's face. She had deep shadows under her eyes and the smile she offered was weak and tired, telling a very different story. But she clearly wasn't prepared to talk about it yet. Jenny decided to keep an eye on her for the next couple of days and have another word with Rupert when she saw him. Their inter-dimensional guest clearly carried her own heavy secrets.

"Well, since it's Saturday, I was thinking we could do that shopping we were talking about. I'm sure you're getting fed up of wearing my wardrobe!"

Willow hesitated; she was still feeling inclined to mope after her restless night. But Miss Calendar was making an effort, even if her tone was a little too bright to be completely natural. And it might be nice to do something as normal as shopping, for once in her time here.

"Okay, thanks. That sounds like fun"

o0o

The shops were quieter than Willow had ever seen them, even the usual Saturday rush had slowed to a light stream of hurried customers. As they moved past a group of students and into one of the more popular clothes shops, Willow noticed the absence of excited chatter and laughter that used to accompany young friends out in town. The mood was sombre and subdued, even in the bright sun of midday.

Willow browsed through a railing, trying to find something light amongst the dark shades. Miss Calendar had told her that vampires were attracted to bright colours, hence the dull outfits sported by most of the town's population, whether they were fully aware of the reason or not. But Willow had always liked colourful things and she wasn't prepared to rule them out of her wardrobe entirely. She was stubborn like that. Exclaiming happily, she pulled out an Indian style shirt of a deep forest green with yellow embroidery around the hems and at the edges of the long, floaty sleeves. She nodded, pleased at her find, and dove back into the racks.

A couple of hours later she had amassed quite a bundle, topped off with new shoes and a waist length plain dark jacket with deep pockets, good for holding supplies. Against Willow's objections, Miss Calendar took the respective piles from her and paid for them at the tills. When she tried to intervene, the teacher gently swatted her hand away.

"Willow, unless I'm mistaken, I don't think cash was on your list of travel accessories when you came here." She gave the girl a pointed look and smiled again as Willow opened and closed her mouth in embarrassment. "It's okay, think of them as a gift for now. You can pay me back some day if you really want to."

The young witch grinned and hurriedly expressed her thanks.

They went to two more shops to pick up all the necessary supplies so Willow could begin to settle in more at the apartment, before they decided it was time for a coffee break. Miss Calendar led them to a much altered and barely functioning Espresso Pump, where Willow dropped her bags down and perched at the table that looked out onto the street. It kept hitting her unexpectedly, how everything was the same here, but not. She was pleased the popular coffee place was still open, even though its current atmosphere was bleak and cold compared to the warm friendly spot it had once been to them all. Memories played across Willow's mind like faint reflections; chatting away with Buffy for hours across hot mochas; donut runs with Xander; meeting Oz for a drink before joining the others at the Bronze…

Willow's gaze dropped as she swallowed the lump in her throat. At that moment, her companion re-appeared and set down two cups on the table. "Here we go. Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

The quiet red-head reached out and drew the cup towards her before meeting the other woman's eye with a small smile. "I'm fine, thanks. And thanks so much for everything Miss Calendar. The clothes, the room -- everything"

Miss Calendar settled on the chair, sweeping back her dark hair and pulled the handle of her own coffee round. "It's not a problem. And you can call me Jenny y'know. You're not a student in the school, well not officially. You don't have to be so formal"

Her eyes twinkled as she smiled across at the girl. Willow suddenly saw how young she looked; a spark and playfulness shone in the teacher that made Willow warm to her even more. She couldn't help but grin back. "Oh, okay. Jenny." She tested the name out. It sounded funny, but she could get used to it.

"So, how long have you been practicing magic?"

Willow's eyes darted up over the rim of her raised cup, but Jenny's face wasn't suspiciously innocent; she looked genuinely interested. She could probably talk about it, just as long as she watched her answers. The witch carefully lowered her drink.

"About a year and a half."

The gypsy raised her eyebrows. "You're powerful for one who's not been learning the craft for that long"

Willow smiled nervously and fingered her cup. "I like learning about it all. I wanted to be able to help Buffy and…people. When I started studying magic, it was like it - just spoke to me. I'd only ever felt like that with computers before. It's like this whole world just opens up and lets me in"

Jenny nodded in understanding as she watched the girl's face light up. "It is a very enticing domain to explore, but it needs to be handled with great care. You may find the deeper in you get, the more you risk exposing yourself to the darker aspects and complications that riddle all things magical. You need to know of the dangers to better avoid them."

Why was Willow feeling like she was getting a lecture. "I'm aware of the dangers" she muttered a little resentfully. "You talk as if you know everything about magic." Willow suddenly grimaced as she realised she had spoken without thinking. Of course Jenny knew about magic – she was a Wicca long before her. The teacher eyed her for a moment before answering.

"Well, I won't say I know everything, or probably even as much as you do now. But I do know about the traditions of magics. I think you know that already"

Jenny watched Willow jerk up quickly. Upon seeing the barely hidden panic flaring in those green eyes, she smiled reassuringly though she chose her words carefully. "Don't worry. I know you're not ready to share your story and I won't make you. There are probably some things we shouldn't know anyway. I only meant that you'd obviously met me in your dimension and there's a good chance you knew that too"

Willow pushed the surge of unpleasant memories back down and managed a strained smile. "Well yeah. Actually you were kinda…the one who got me into magic in the first place"

"Really? Well, then I'll take some pride by association in the promising witch you're becoming"

The shy girl beamed and blushed slightly with the praise. Jenny watched her with sharp but smiling eyes.

"So tell me how you discovered the daylight spell. I didn't think a workable translation from the Latin existed"

Willow leant forward in her chair excitedly. "No! I mean, it didn't – but I found a Nordic interpretation in the Lyxa, and then it was a matter of translating and tweaking that and then lots of practice. I've still not perfected it – big spells still tend to wipe me out a bit," she admitted with disappointment.

"It will take time to build up your body's strength in channelling the magic's power. Just don't push yourself. Have you read the Book of Gentz-Byer?"

"No, but I've heard of it! That's the one about the Byer Coven in 14th century Germany right? The ones that excelled in elemental spells?"

The two women talked for the length of second cup of coffee each. Willow was thrilled to finally speak to someone about magic and fascinated by everything the young teacher had to offer on the subject. Jenny talked and laughed so easily, that Willow felt like she was chatting with an old friend. She'd always liked the smart computer pagan but they'd never been especially close. And then the whole thing with Buffy had divided loyalties – and then Angel… Now as she observed Jenny raise her eyebrows and laugh at the giddy enthusiasm Willow knew she was letting run away with her, the young witch was glad she had this chance to get to know her properly. She was probably the best friend Willow had in this place; and there was no denying she had enjoyed their day together immensely.

Eventually, Jenny pushed her empty cup away from her.

"Are you ready to go? We need to drop your shopping back before heading over to the school"

"Oh, yep. Just let me get-"

Willow leapt off the stool and gathered up the bags at her feet. It wouldn't be dark for a couple of hours; maybe she would have time for a shower before they began to get ready for patrol. At the library. With Oz and…

Willow gripped the plastic handles with tight fists, as the good feeling that had built inside her during the day, fought not to be swallowed in the wave of sorrow and hurt that swelled up. As she followed the teacher out and onto the street, she tried to unclench her jaw enough to speak.

"So…are the others meeting us there again?"

"Yes. Rupert spoke to them after we left last night"

They walked in the direction of Jenny's small car, as the afternoon sun began to dip in the hot clear sky.

"It's got to be exhausting on everyone though"

"Well, we do everything we can. Although people do still need to take care of themselves – it's no good if they're too tired or injured to help"

Willow noticed the slight frown on her features and remembered her chastising of Giles. The Watcher did tend to over-extend himself in Willow's experience. However, her thoughts were on someone else. "Well it's always nice to have someone to take care of you I guess"

Jenny nodded absently as she unlocked the car. Willow dragged her bags into the back before sliding into the passenger seat.

"Annie's a…lucky girl"

The car started as Jenny glanced over at her passenger distractedly. She was twisting her hands in her lap.

"How so?"

Willow made a big effort to sound casual. "Well, I mean, she h-has Oz. Doesn't she?"

The teacher stole a curious look at the girl beside her. Her voice was deceptively calm though her tone trembled under the words. She turned back to the road and was quiet a moment before speaking.

"No. Actually Annie's not seeing anyone, as far as I know anyway"

Willow nearly gasped. She stared at Miss Calendar for a beat before quickly averting her gaze out the side window. She managed a small, "Oh."

Willow's heart was racing and dancing little dizzy circles in her chest, making it hard to draw steady breaths. She had made herself sick over nothing! All that worry, all that distress and jealousy and it was all in her head. Willow took a moment to mentally scold herself for her rash reaction. The heady relief spread like a euphoric drug throughout her body and a small giddy smile pulled at her lips as she watched the scenery go by. After a moment it faded, as Willow came back down from the brief high and forcefully reminded herself that this didn't mean Oz didn't have _someone_. Still, she couldn't temper the hope that burst through her. Willow knew now she couldn't ever stop her feelings or change her heart– no matter what her head told her or how much she tried to insist he wasn't the same Oz. All she saw when she looked at him was the boy she fell in love with – there must be something in that. There could never be anyone else for her. She'd given him her heart a long time ago and he'd always own it. Willow chewed her lip; he just had to realise how careful he had to be with it.

o0o

* * *

**AN** Wow, Willow kinda bounced from one extreme to the other in this chapter! In her defence, her emotions have pretty much been put through the mangler with everything that's happened! And it's not over yet…not by a long shot *evil cackle!* If you want to see some Oz in the next chapter – cast your vote here! He's been a bit quiet lately hasn't he?

Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed so far – you guys are why I keep going! :D


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

Three hours later, Willow followed Miss Calendar through the familiar library doors with an unconscious spring in her step, in spite of the bleak circumstances. Freshly washed hair fell around her eager face; the long soak and scrub she had indulged in was working wonders in making her feel normal again. She'd wasted no time in trying out her new outfits either, and her soft green top floated down over a knee-length black skirt and grey tights.

The old excitement that usually accompanied patrol was buzzing through her once more, and she resisted the urge to skip up to the table, feeling it might be somewhat inappropriate. Giles emerged from the office just then and spotted them.

"Hello you two. Oh, glad to see you looking better Willow."

The shining redhead grinned cheerily at him before moving over to the book cage to rifle through the armoury cupboard with the restless anticipation of a child picking out sweets. The librarian watched her with a slightly bemused expression before turning to Jenny.

"Good day I take it?"

The teacher only smiled mysteriously, brushing his arm lightly as she went to tidy his books that were cluttering the long table as usual.

Willow was cleaning crossbow bolts, really for something to do rather than for any particularly useful purpose, when she heard him enter the library. He met her gaze and nodded in silent greeting before quietly joining her at the table, where he picked up a crossbow from the disorderly heap of weapons beside her. Willow watched him out the corner of her eye as he tested the weapon before heading into the book cage. She focused on cleaning the long vicious bolt between her fingers and tried to calm her jumping heartbeat.

Oz emerged twirling a screwdriver in his hand. He leant against the open doorway to the cage and concentrated on tightening the trigger mechanism, eyes determindly locked down. He still felt slightly uneasy around the strange girl, and he still couldn't pinpoint why. It wasn't a bad feeling, it was just…something.

Willow shot a surreptitious glance over. His stance was outwardly relaxed, but she recognised the thoughtful slant of his head. The blond messy spikes of his hair stood out against his pale skin and the dark grey and black of his top and over shirt, that hung stylishly loose over his lean chest and frame. Willow looked away when she realised she was staring, but she couldn't _not_ notice how good he looked. She sighed mentally; this was all so silly. Since when was she such a moony crusher over her own boyfriend?! '_I think I'm a groupie!'_ A sad touch of amusement passed over her face at the long-ago uttered words. She _had_ been rather awe-stuck at the beginning of their relationship. Though whether that was more to do with the fact that he was in an actual band or that she had a boyfriend in the first place, Willow wasn't too sure. Yet he wasn't her boyfriend. Now. Or ever, in this universe. So what did that make her? Oh man, another headache was trying to sneak up, she could feel it.

"Are you feeling better?"

She jumped at his quiet voice and looked up surprised. She smiled a little too enthusiastically, trying to cover her awkwardness around him. "Oh, yes thanks. I guess the excitement just got to me a bit the other night."

He nodded and lowered his eyes back to his adjustments as he spoke again. "You're a good fighter."

"Thanks."

Willow's gaze followed his and lingered on his steady hands as they firmly handled the weapon with the ease of much practice. His slender fingers flexed and worked with a deft agility that reminded her of watching him play. Of all those lazy afternoons that had passed with her studying as Oz sat on the floor by her bed, softly strumming in quiet concentration.

o0o

_The melodic acoustic notes filled the space of conversation, just as beautiful to her ears as his voice. Willow tried once more to drag her attention back to the algebra books spread out before her on the thick covers. Her feet paddled restlessly in the air, legs stretched out on the bed behind her. Funnily enough, maths was kinda the last thing on her mind whenever he was close. She was going to have to lock herself away Monday night if she was going to have any hope of passing this test. _

_Slowly the music stopped, soon followed by a barely audible sigh that drifted up from the bent head of brown hair at the foot of her bed. Willow shuffled forward on her stomach until she could peek over the edge._ "_What's wrong?"_

_Oz turned his head to face her as he leant back against the patchwork quilt._ "_Hmm, fingers and strings are having a disagreement and the chord is on strike in protest."_

_Willow giggled and rested her chin on her hands._ "_Do you want me to report them to the drum kit? Can't have arguments breaking up the instruments."_

"_Oh I agree, but the drums and cymbals are having their own issues. Best not to get involved, trust me."_

_She laughed, her eyes bright as they danced over his face. She leaned further over the bed, a playful smile forming on her lips._ "_Maybe you need to relax. I've heard chords don't react well to tense musicians."_

_Oz's eyebrow quirked teasingly, even as her breath on his cheek sent his heart racing._ "_Really?" _

_Willow grinned and nodded before finally pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. Oz's hand abandoned the guitar to slide through ruby locks, holding her close. When they drew apart, Willow opened her eyes and announced, _"_Yep, I think we definitely need to relax you."_

_Oz smirked._ "_I think you need to stop avoiding your homework."_

_Before she could respond, he pulled her warm mouth to his again, swallowing her objections. Willow's hand gripped at his shoulder as she shifted on the bed, trying to get even closer to him. _

"_I'm not avoiding," she retorted slightly breathlessly when he eventually released her. "I'm actually acting with very honourable intentions. I study best with music. I'm just trying to inspire your playing."_

_Oz stroked her cheek tenderly, resting their foreheads together._

"_Mission very accomplished." _

o0o_  
_

Willow quickly looked away to hide the flash of pain that crossed her face at the memory. She replaced the bolt with a new one and began to scrub at it with the cloth in her lap. The question slipped out before she realised it.

"Do you still play?"

The boy's movements abruptly halted, his eyes skipping to her averted face and back in a split second. For a moment, he merely stared at the brutal instrument of battle in his grip. His rough hands still remembered the feel of the sleek neck and curved wood under his palms. His calloused fingers still recalled the biting cut of string and fret; the physical memory of chord positions still caused them to twitch in the empty air at times. Remembering the instrument of music that once felt as natural in his hold as did weapons now. The old guitar that still lay where it was cast aside in a corner of his room, what felt like so long ago. About a hundred vampires ago.

_And she knew_.

He raised his head and studied the slight girl at the table who was rubbing at the black bolts with a renewed vigour. He knew he shouldn't be surprised really. She had said she had been friends with him -- the_ other_ him that is. Still, it had caught him off guard, though he didn't allow it to show on his face.

"No."

Willow bit her lip at the flatness of his voice. Obviously a painful subject. Still, she wanted to get past the awkward stage with him. They had to become friends if she had any hope of ever telling him what her heart burned to say. So she took a steadying breath and plunged ahead. She looked up gingerly.

"Why?"

Oz stared at her for a long beat. She was watching him nervously and he didn't want to be cold. He wasn't like that; but he also wasn't big on the sharing. Oz fought his natural impulse to resist opening up and made the effort. He shrugged and went back to fixing the crossbow, that was already pretty much fixed, but just for the sake of occupying his hands.

"Don't exactly have the time anymore. The band I was with is...gone. Besides, it's hardly important compared to what else is going on."

"I don't know."

He glanced up at her voice. She looked like she was struggling to find the right words to express herself, her brow crumpled in cute thoughtful creases. Oz mentally shook his head, slightly surprised. It had been a long while since he'd noticed something like that in someone.

"It's just...I don't want to presume, but the _you_ I knew before, his music was such a big part of him. I guess I, I just don't see how something that you love and believe in, could ever -- _not_ be important."

Her voice was quiet but sure as she held his gaze. Oz digested her words. She was certainly good at disarming his usually calm and collected persona. It took him a good minute to get to grips with his thoughts again. It had been an age since he had last allowed himself to think seriously about his music. When the Master rose; when the Bronze became strictly for the non-pulse clientele; when his friends started disappearing… It had been too painful to play and he had given it up; turned away from it as a last reminder of the way things used to be. There was no point.

He shrugged. "This town doesn't exactly inspire creativity."

"Well, morbid depressing songs are always a hit in the charts too. Just look at Morrissey."

He offered her a wry smile and observed her face brighten as she smiled back at him. Girl had a point. Little did the boy know, once upon an alternative universe, it had been he himself who had introduced the redhead to the British music legend.

"I-I know things are...well, bad doesn't really cover it here. But you, you shouldn't let go of the things -- that make you who you are."

Willow was abruptly diverted from their conversation as Jenny and Giles emerged out the office, clearly in the middle of an animated debate. Oz studied the distracted girl for a moment longer, before also turning his attention to the arguing adults.

"Rupert, you should really double check that. One reference in one book is no need for a panic attack!"

"It's not just any book!" Giles was blustering in a way that usually signalled doom, but then he seemed to deflate and removed his glasses in a weary action. "But, yes, you're right. I'll – I'll look into it further."

"What's the deal guys?"

The two staff members looked over as if surprised they weren't alone. Oz walked over from the book cage and laid down the bow, not taking his eyes off the Watcher and teacher.

"Oh, well – it's quite possibly nothing." Giles exchanged a look with Jenny, who immediately took charge of the situation.

"It's nothing for any of you to worry about just now. We will let you know when and if anything comes up."

The two teenagers eyed the grown-ups sceptically, but Jenny's tone brooked no room for objections and before they could even try, the banging of the library doors heralded the arrival of Mike and Annie and the start of patrol.

o0o

* * *

**AN** Ask and ye shall receive. Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks a million to everyone and all who review - I can't tell you how much I love hearing from you guys! It really gives me the energy to keep writing through the bad days. Oh, and if people want to keep up to date, I usually post all story news updates on my profile. So if something is going on (or not if the block troll is back!) - it'll be there!

Thanks again!


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

Sunday afternoon soon rolled around, and found the small group assembled in the library once more. Giles was keen for them to dedicate time to practicing techniques and organising a more structured offensive against their night foes. Hence the large room was currently cluttered with various activities. Annie was attacking a punching bag that had been brought in, with a focused aggression that was slightly startling. Oz was silent as he practised his aim on a target board to the side of the table where Willow had lined up stakes and weapons of varying sizes, as she proceeded to test the limits of her telekinetic magic. Inside the small office Jenny was busy at Giles's desk, while the Watcher was currently engaging Mike in a sparring match in the middle of library floor.

Willow was worried about what had spurred this urgency and sudden determination in the Watcher. She was sure it had to do with whatever he hadn't told them the other night, and the familiar sense of a looming final battle was beginning to gather at the edges of her mind. Attempting to push it out of her thoughts, she returned to summoning and focusing her magic. However, she did acknowledge the upside to the increasingly grim prospects they faced; Giles seemed to have temporarily forgotten his desire to find a solution to her dimensional problem.

Looking over, the witch observed the flurry of movements as the very capable Watcher blocked and parried the younger boy's blows. Willow couldn't help but flash to the many times he had trained Buffy in the same way; his relentless determination to keep her prepared even when the small Slayer brushed off his attacks with ease and humour, time and time again. How he would fluster in a combination of pride and embarrassment, before affectionately scolding the flippant teen.

She smiled to herself and turned back just in time to see the two stakes she had been levitating chasing each other round in a circle distractedly. Stifling a laugh at the slightly bizarre sight, Willow focused and the objects slowed to rest before her in the air again.

Oz laid down the bow and walked forward to retrieve the knives and bolts from the board pinned up on the balcony. His eyes drifted back to the girl at the other side of the table. He watched as she looked over at Giles and Mike, a distant smile playing across her face. She knew so much. Oz had to remind himself that Willow carried knowledge of a whole other dimension, a whole other life. And secrets could be very lonely things; Oz knew that better than most.

With a small sigh, he tugged the last knife out of the wood. His aim wasn't bad. Of course managing to hit moving, snarling, attacking targets was another thing. As he walked back to resume his stance, his gaze slid over once more to the young witch who was now making tentative movements in the air as she attempted to send the stakes in two different directions simultaneously. Her nose scrunched slightly in concentration. Oz felt a smile hinting around his mouth and quickly looked down at the cross-bolt he twirled in his fingers. He'd found himself wanting to smile increasingly often around the redhead; the curious girl who had dropped into their lives without warning from another reality. Yet he was finding it hard to shake the creeping feeling that she somehow belonged here. The boy steadied his hand and took aim. It was disconcerting, not to have any satisfying explanations for the growing turmoil he felt.

The heavy bag swayed limply and Annie wiped her damp hair off her sweaty forehead. Breathing heavily, she crossed behind the duelling figures and retrieved the water bottle from the card catalogue stand. Her knuckles were red and sore and her muscles stung from her extensive assault, but she didn't feel any better for it. After months of fighting, after all the dustings, injuries, and more losses and close calls than any of them cared to remember, they still kept getting stronger. The vampires kept taking from them to fill up their own ranks. The tide didn't ever turn. It was hopeless; they were extremely few against an ever growing army. The difference between her and her fellows was that Annie accepted that. She didn't hope to win, didn't expect to survive.

She stood and surveyed the room while gulping down the refreshingly cool water. She watched as Oz adjusted the crossbow in his hands, before landing a bolt in the middle of the board. She sometimes forgot how good a shot he was; that he had been doing this for much longer than she had. His head turned slightly and Annie frowned as she saw him cast another low glance at the witch. She still wasn't sure what she thought about the new girl. Granted she could handle herself in a fight, and so far hadn't shown any of the blood-thirsty tendencies of her predecessor in this reality – but not for one second did Annie believe her story. And she still hadn't explained the vampire bite she had shown up with, only a white plaster now covered the offending mark along the side of her neck. The sharp young woman had not missed the stolen glances the redhead snuck at him. Annie wandered back to the bag to vent some of her anxiety. She didn't want Oz to get hurt.

"Right, yes. Good work." Giles straightened up and smiled encouragingly at the boy across from him. Mike lowered the sword and wiped his brow.

"Are we taking a break?" The hopeful tone in his voice was hard to miss. The old librarian was surprisingly good with a blade and after several sparring sessions, the youth was yet to best him.

"Yes, I think that's enough for now. I have to check in with Jenny anyway. Good practice Michael."

The boy sighed and gratefully staggered away. He slumped down in a chair and leaned back to watch the others. "Nice," he commented admiringly as Willow added a small dagger to her floating armoury. She flashed him a quick smile before returning her attention to the blade that had begun to slowly rotate.

At the other side of the table, Annie approached Oz and laid a hand on his shoulder. Out the corner of her eye, Willow watched as he turned to her and she spoke in a low voice that didn't carry. He nodded once and they moved off towards the doors.

"Uh, Willow?"

Her eyes widened with dismay as she looked back to the sight of the dagger that was now spinning wildly out of control. The stakes dropped to the table, Mike shrunk back in his seat and Willow ducked as the blade suddenly flung itself through the air, embedding deep in the wooden balcony just beyond. Mike raised his eyebrows at Willow who was looking slightly shocked.

"Um...whoops?" She shot him a sheepish smile and moved to retrieve the dagger before Giles could accuse her of vandalising his library.

"Guess magic takes a bit of getting used to, huh?"

"True. Although, that's not _technically..._the first time that's happened." Willow sat down to see Mike eyeing her with awed curiosity.

"Was there a conveniently placed railing that time too?"

"Actually it was a tree."

Mike looked at her for a moment before shaking his head with a small chuckle. He had a nice laugh, young and warm, and Willow managed to form a small grin at the distant memory.

"Well practice makes perfect, we hope."

"Yeah, it's all a matter of focus and…emotional control. Y-You can't let your mind wander or -- well, you kinda saw! Also the more objects you impose your will on, the more the magic pulls on you physically. But hopefully if I build it up gradually then, y'know."

He nodded slowly but looked thoughtful. There was quiet for a few moments and Willow began to feel awkward again, glancing away to the other side of the room. She looked back round when she felt a light touch on her arm. Mike was looking a little embarrassed.

"Listen, um, I'm- I'm sorry I was kind of a jerk before."

Willow stared for a second, surprised and touched at the unexpected apology. "Oh. Oh, that's okay. I-I was kinda a shock to you all. I get that. Forget about it," she assured quickly, a bright smile spreading across her face which was hesitantly returned by the boy beside her.

o0o

His face remained frustratingly impassive as she talked. Annie frowned. _Boy, he can do a great impression of a wall when he wants to._

"Look, I'm just saying you need to watch yourself. We all need to be careful." His body stiffened slightly, even as he slouched against the lockers. She sighed and ruffled her hair with impatience. "Okay, whatever! Do you what you want. Like I care." She turned to storm back into the library when he spoke up, low and calm as always, behind her.

"Not sure what it is you think I'm going to do."

The young woman faced him again with a sceptical glare. "Wanna play coy – fine. Whatever this _thing_ is that's going on between you two, just keep in mind we've known her for less than three days. We effectively know _nothing_ about her!"

Oz watched her rant for a minute, still unsure how he felt about this intervention being run on his behalf. There was a pause before he spoke again. "Willow."

"Of course her! Look, it's your life – do what you want. Just tell me you won't lose your head. Giving people the benefit of the doubt tends to go badly in this town."

With that, Annie abruptly walked away, leaving the silent boy to his own confusing thoughts.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Finally! What can I say but apologise profusely, and give my muse a cookie for coming through at last. I know it's been _way_ too long, but I come bearing my longest chapter yet, so hopefully I'm forgiven? :) Big hugs to all my reviewers, you guys are awesome! And a special shout-out and thank you to all of my anonymous reviewers, since I can't reply to your reviews I just wanted you to know that every single one is read and appreciated very much! I love hearing from everyone, and knowing people are interested in my story, makes me all smiley and happy!

So without further ado; the long-overdue next installment! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

_Crouching down, Willow reached out and carefully smoothed the drifts of sand away. A bemused smile alighted on her features as the shape of the buried item became clearer. With a last tug, she rescued the small doll from her desert grave of the sandbox. Shifting to kneel more firmly on the grass, she looked the well-worn Barbie over with a knowing eye, re-acquainting herself with every mark and smudge that had befallen the doll under her childish care, each one a warm memory. Her bashed plastic limbs were stuck out at every awkward angle that would make a contortionist jealous. Willow smiled to herself as she absently twisted them back into a more comfortable position. A delicately painted face smiled up cheerfully at her long-lost owner, expression permanently portraying endless joy and enthusiasm, seemingly unconcerned with however long she had been lost in that pit. Willow wondered if she had missed her. If she knew how long they had been apart. If she still remembered all the adventures the little girl had dragged her along to. If she had forgiven her for the bright yellow flower she had doodled on her back with permanent marker; for the time she had dropped her in the bath; for when Mrs Lynch's labrador had snatched her up and managed to half-bury her in their neighbour's garden by the time Willow had caught up to them. Gentle fingers ran over coarse blonde hair as she attempted to smooth the tangles that she had once spent so long brushing into sleek waves._

_"Hey!"_

_Startled at the indignant cry, Willow jerked up to see a boy clumsily running over. She watched curiously as he came to a stop just in front of her, dark and dishevelled hair fell into familiar eyes and he was somewhat red-faced with spent energy - or possibly anger. He puffed out some air and glared stubbornly at the young woman before him._

_"That's not yours!" He pointed a grubby finger towards the doll that was still clutched in her hands. "You can't have it! I've got to look after it"_

_Willow glanced down at the innocently smiling doll before back at the little boy who was now bouncing from foot to foot with impatience, eyes anxious as they locked upon the battered Barbie. He looked close to tears, young face scrunching slightly, big brown eyes staring up into hers as he held out his hand expectantly._

_"Give it back" _

_Torn to see the boy so upset, Willow smiled and obligingly passed the doll over. His face instantly lightened with relief as he grabbed it and pulled the toy against his chest in a small hug. Feeling a surge of affection for the child in front of her, Willow grinned indulgently._

_"I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was yours"_

_The boy glanced up at her, an edge of embarrassment in his words. "It's not!" he corrected quickly, before his face softened as he looked back down at the doll, grasped almost tenderly in his small hands. "But I've got to keep it safe" _

_He stared hard at the old toy, expression slightly crumpled as if he were trying to remember something. Then the tension vanished and he looked back up to her with a bright smile of assured confidence. "She's coming back you know. I'll look after it 'til she gets back"_

_Willow frowned. "Who?"  
_

_But the little boy only rolled his eyes and gave her that look that children always give adults who don't understand what they talk about; like he didn't expect her to get it. Before she could open her mouth again, their brief conversation was interrupted by another shout. _

_"Are you coming to help me look or not?! Hurry up!"_

_Willow squinted into the wilderness in search of the young yet commanding voice, but the boy merely laughed in recognition and spun around to run back into the trees, to meet the invisible caller._

_"Wait!" Willow stumbled to her feet, not knowing the cause of the urgency that gripped her. "What are you looking for?"_

_The boy paused in the long, damp grass that suddenly swam up to their knees, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes that she thought she should know._

_"We can't find if we don't look"_

_Grinning at his own cryptic answer, he darted off into the woods again. Moving without thought, Willow sprang forward as she hurried after him. Dodging between trees and bushes with more agility than she would have normally credited herself with having, she struggled to catch a glimpse of the boy amongst the thicket of high grass and low branches. Just when she was beginning to suspect she was going in circles, she heard the sounds of childish shouts._

_The grass rippled ahead of her as two small figures weaved their own paths through the dry sea. Eager yells whipped up the air around her, as Willow tried again to catch up to the children. A flash of brilliant blonde hair glinted in the sunlight as she heard the girl who ran beside him call out and draw his attention over to something._

_Then they vanished._

_Willow staggered to a halt. Blinking round at her surroundings, she stepped forward cautiously through the waving stems. She was meant to follow, she was sure; there was something she had to say to them. Twisting around to check behind her, she peered back the way she had come. No, she couldn't go back -- suddenly the ground disappeared beneath her searching feet, and with a yell of surprise, Willow tumbled backwards and down into the hidden rabbit-hole._

_Screwing her eyes shut, she tried to get to grips with the sudden disorientation. But when she opened them again, she found she wasn't falling anymore. She knew this place. She always seemed to end up here; at the beginning of it all._

_Reaching out, she pressed the tips of her fingers against the cool glass of the vending machine. Rows upon rows of Animal Cracker boxes grinned back at her teasingly. For some reason, she could swear the monkey was winking at her. Like he knew her personally and was sharing a private joke. A smile sparked on her face, the words springing unbidden to her lips as she leaned closer to the glass. "Tu me manques" she whispered back softly. Huh, since when did she know French? Willow's brow furrowed as she mulled the strange question over._

_"Miss Rosenberg!"_

_Jumping back, the guilty student spun round to face the horribly familiar voice._

_"Principle Snyder!"_

_The troll, as Buffy had affectionately renamed him, stood there like a smug cat that had just caught a particularly troublesome and coveted mouse. Contempt gleamed in those beady little eyes, while the smirk that lurked behind his professional glare, made it very clear she wasn't going to like what came next. Not that they ever did when it came to their loathsome Principle. Oh no, was she late for class again? That magic assignment wasn't due 'til next week she was sure, had she forgotten some other homework? That wasn't like her. Willow racked her brains, trying to remember her schedule. But wait, she had to get to the library. She had to tell Giles —_

_"No no, this won't do. You think you can just skip weeks of classes with no consequences? Not in my school Missy"_

_Willow stared at him blankly, while he regarded her with the same sense of snide enjoyment that reminded her forcibly of that doomed walk to his office when her Wicca supplies had been uncovered on school property._

_"I -- what?"_

_He shook his head condescendingly, "A bright future all thrown away. Very disappointing but not unexpected; it's always the quiet ones. Young people today have no respect for order, for discipline. You think you can just do whatever you want?" He paused, savouring the moment, "One week detention"_

_Willow's eyes widened at the sentence of judgement. She hadn't meant to miss that much school, she just didn't know where all the time had gone. It was quite possibly her first detention ever. Well, at least she didn't have to worry about her parents finding out. No-one would ever have to know. She'd just been doing -- something else. Willow frowned in thought; whatever it was, it must have been important. She suddenly felt jumpy, anxious to be moving._

_Snyder was looking very pleased with himself. "Ignorant teenagers have no right to change the world"_

_"I'm – I'm sorry?"_

_The greasy little man before her made a sound of impatient irritation at her no doubt deliberate obstinance. Waving a dismissive hand down the corridor, he narrowed his eyes._

_"Isn't there somewhere you need to be? And I expect you to do some serious thinking about what your priorities are, Miss Rosenberg. And the answer is __not 42, before you even ask." Snyder's eyes suddenly glazed and he looked almost comically thoughtful. "I don't _think_ so anyway," he mumbled before he seemed to snap up his train of thought again. "School is no place for students," he declared before he stuck a warning finger in her face making her jerk back "And I'll have you know that vampires and cute mystery parties are not on the curriculum young lady. Make sure you tell your friends that." He stalked off, muttering something about 'troublemakers' under his breath._

_Where was it she was meant to be? Willow tapped her fingers against the creaky locker door. Math class? Or was it History? She didn't want to get in anymore bother; was it worth it anyway? She should really tell the others that Snyder was on the war path._

_Left facing an empty corridor, Willow nearly jumped when the disharmonious chorus of pattering feet echoed through the building towards her. They were still looking. And she still had to find them. With a determined look and ignoring Snyder's threats, Willow ran off in the opposite direction, away towards the source of disruption in the otherwise silent school. Turning a corner, she found her immediate path blocked by a narrow door. Feeling impatience curl around the edges of her mind, she reached out to yank the obstruction open. The corridor should be there on the other side, she reasoned logically. She knew this school inside out after all._

_"God Willow – don't you knock!?"_

_Blinking like a deer caught in the headlights, the student found herself face to face with the indignant scowl of a certain cheerleader, as she spun around to face her interruption. Feet shuffled behind her, but Willow couldn't see her partner in crime through the shadows. Though, their face was at the tip of her mind. Shifting awkwardly, the embarrassed redhead glanced round them in confusion._

_"But -- it's a broom closet" She pointed out quietly._

_"Exactly!" Cordelia tossed long chocolate waves over her shoulder and crossed her arms. "Hello – privacy!"_

_Shaking her head in wide-eyed bemusement, Willow backed up a few steps and turned to head in the other hallway that had materialized to her right._

_"Hey!" _

_She looked back to see Cordelia take a few steps down the hall in her direction as she called__. A strange self-satisfied smile lay across her lips. "You could say thanks, you know"_

_Willow frowned. Why would she thank Cordelia? The predominantly self-centred drama queen had done nothing for most of her life but make Willow's a misery. Sure she had helped them a few times, albeit very reluctantly. But she was fairly sure she didn't own her anything._

_"What for?"_

_She watched as the popular princess rolled her eyes, a quiet scoff forming from her glossed lips. "Gee, and people think_ I'm _selfish"_

_Before Willow could question her odd reaction, with a flick of dark hair and a click of a door, both Cordelia and the closet had melted back into the walls. Eyes quickly scanning back and forth, she hastily backed away up the hall. Finally dragging her gaze back around, she tried to focus. The bell would be going soon and she had research to finish. Glancing down at her sides, she blinked in surprise. Hadn't she been carrying some books for Giles?_

_"Long time no see, stranger"_

_Spinning round at the lightly joking voice, a slow grin broke out across her face at the sight of the tall gangly boy jogging forward to meet her, a matching smile stretching ear to ear on his beaming face. Finally, someone she was happy to see._

_"Come on, we're late for the test!" With a familiar cheeky wink, he grabbed up her hand in his larger one and pulled her with him through the school before Willow could draw breath in greeting. Why did he and Xander have such long legs? She grumbled to herself as she raced to keep pace, unsure why she felt a desperate ache to pull them both to a stop and memorize the eager face she had known for so long. As if this was a rare contact. How could it be when he was always there? Or was it her that was never there?_

_The sound of breathless laughter pulled her head round. Squinting awkwardly over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of two small forms as they chased each other past the end of the hallway._

_"This way, come on!"_

_The high call of their voices faded as they disappeared out of sight again. Willow felt her legs stumble as she pulled back, body jerking as she tried to turn around from their current direction. They were going the wrong way…_

_"No, we need to go this--"_

_But she couldn't drag them back the way they'd come, to follow the children. The boy who held her arm, charged on regardless to her vain attempts to stop them, to grab his attention. She could only watch helplessly as his feet led hers onwards, leaving a trail of footprints in gritty ash behind._

_He shook his head but didn't look back at her, "It's not as if we had a choice Will"_

_"Why can't things be different?" Her voice caught quietly, her hand tightening around his. This time, he did glance back and she could see the smile that filled his voice._

_"They already are." He squeezed her fingers gently, "But you can't save everyone; things don't work that way"_

_They were still running, familiar surroundings flew past them on both sides, but she paid them no mind. The rhythmic echo of their steps bounced off the walls, but they didn't meet another soul. Everyone must already be inside._

_"Can't we slow down a bit?" she begged, feeling her legs start to strain. She didn't understand his hurry._

_"But they're waiting; they can't do it without you"_

_"Why? I'm not important," she mumbled to her feet._

_He grinned, "I think I know someone who would disagree"_

_Willow cast a curious glance at his head, but somehow knew that he wouldn't share anymore. He was an excellent secret-keeper. She had always been able to tell him anything and know it was safe in his holding. He knew all of her embarrassing secrets and confessions, and though he would tease her relentlessly, he would never break her trust. She wanted to tell him how thankful she was, how much she appreciated everything he had done for her, how she would never forget. But he seemed to read her mind._

_"Hey, if you could spend all those hours making up a song to teach me the state capitals, not telling was the least I could do!"_

_That drew a knowing smile from her. He had always been so unwilling to actually study – worse than even Xander. Distracted, she suddenly noticed the black case that bumped against his back in front of her, with every stride they took._

_"Jesse, since when do you play guitar?"_

_The boy chuckled. "I don't. Don't be silly"_

_"But-"_

_The words fell back down her throat as he suddenly stopped them in front of a classroom door. "Ready?" he asked, lightly gripping her shoulders. Willow glanced aghast at the waiting door before looking back into his smiling eyes, full of all the excitement and enthusiasm he had always carried around with him. Lost too young…_

_"But Jess – I haven't revised!" Willow stammered, as she felt the familiar academic panic rising. Her friend just smiled wider._

_"You were always the smart one – you'll figure it out. You're our Will"_

_"Wait!"_

_But with a gentle shove to her back, Willow found herself flung through the open door…_

_…and falling ungracefully into the middle of a darkly lit backstage. Performers milled around her, reading out lines from the scripts in their hands, waving hands in dramatic gestures, applying dubious makeup and practising last minute adjustments to props and acts that she couldn't hazard a guess at. Too much activity surrounded her for her to focus on, just giving a general impression of unprepared chaos. Her brow scrunched. Hadn't she had this dream before? Pulling herself to her feet, she tried to shrink away from the mass of loud and bustling bodies that crowded in at all sides, bashing and tossing her about like a boat in unfriendly waters. Why wasn't someone telling her what to do? She wasn't ready! Maybe she could pretend to be sick._

_"Here! Put this on" _

_Willow stared dumbly at the white sheet someone had just thrust into her limp hands. She was playing what? A pillowcase? She slowly pulled the cloth out, bringing the black printed letters into view; '__BOO!' Her expression one of thoroughly bewildered fear, she suddenly found herself squinting at a glaring spotlight. The curtains were wide open as she spun around to face an audience she couldn't see. Oh god no, not again - please just let the ground swallow her…_

_"You should be careful what you wish for little girl"_

_Jerking towards the nonchalant voice that had broken her paralysed terror, Willow's eyes grew round as she took in the bizarre sight that shared the stage with her. A small furry pig sat upon a table that was spread out for a lavish tea party. Three place settings were laid around the edge, while he sat on his haunches in the middle of the pristine white tablecloth, as if he were expecting visitors._

_"That nearly happened to you once, after all"_

_"Oh, yeah" Willow agreed, still dazed as the memory came and went in a heartbeat. She walked towards the small creature, hands balling the old ghost costume up into anxious knots as she did. "I-I don't think I'm supposed to be here" she said, casting nervous glances about her. Mr Gordo tilted his fuzzy head to the side as he regarded her curiously._

_"Fish of the day, my dear" he advised solemnly, giving a sage nod._

_"You ever have that dream where you're in a play, and it's the middle of the play, and you really don't know your lines, and you kind of don't know the plot?"_

_Willow moved her head in a tiny distracted nod to the silent words that only she could hear. "All the time" she murmured with a troubled smile. A little sigh brought her attention back to the small form that sat on the table before her. Mr Gordo was gazing off into the auditorium with a sad expression somehow._

_"A-Are you okay?" Willow inquired softly, edging closer._

_"I will miss them; they're all just children still. The stories carry on, yet the outcomes aren't determined now." His voice became far away, "They do play such dangerous games for such little children. I worry about all this unweaving"_

_"Why?"_

_He gave her an indulgent look. He had a remarkably expressive face for a stuffed animal, she acknowledged with amazement._

_"If you were made of thread, wouldn't it worry you?"_

_"I suppose so," she admitted with an abashed smile._

_He pawed at the tablecloth with a tiny hoof, speaking down to the table. "Everything's falling back into this beginning. Even I don't know anymore."_

_She didn't know what to say, so she only reached out to gently stroke the warm fur behind his little pink ear comfortingly. Shiny black eyes looked up into hers thoughtfully._

_"They are invaluable gifts to be given. Never forget"_

_"O-Okay" she hesitantly agreed, brow creased in futile confusion._

_"Are you going to hide again?" he asked, gesturing with his head towards the sheet in her hands._

_ Willow followed his gaze before giving a sheepish smile. "Maybe, for a little while?"_

_Giving a lopsided smile, the stuffed toy shuffled out from under her hand. "Cracker?" he offered pleasantly, nudging a small plate towards her with his snout. Willow shook her head, slightly worried for her mental health. Willow in Wonderland indeed. "N-no, thanks," she declined politely._

_"Yes! I found her! I knew we would! Come on!"_

_Willow's head twisted to look round, eyes narrowing as she tried to determine what direction the excited shouts had come from. Desperation pounced on her mind; she knew she was close to finding them - she had to see them. Side-stepping, she turned away towards the darkness of backstage._

_"No." _

_She looked round to see Mr Gordo eyeing her sternly. "You can't go that way, you can only go forward" Lifting his head, he gestured out towards the blinding lights. Feeling but not understanding the truth of his words, Willow ran forward and jumped off the edge off the stage._

_She fell amongst the empty desks of her old history classroom. Picking herself up awkwardly, she glanced around quickly to see she really was completely alone before holding her breath, trying to catch their voices again. Her foot touched something on the ground; looking down she saw a pale wooden stake had slipped to the floor in her stumble. Had she been carrying that the whole time? Shrugging the thought off, she picked it up. It couldn't hurt after all, she decided._

_Fingers clasped tightly around the sharp stick, Willow headed out into the still deserted hallways of the school. It was dark, like someone had cut the power. Shadows leered from all sides, hiding the unnamed fears and untamed horrors within. The tinkling of girlish giggles broke through the gloom. Willow felt an ache throb in her chest at the sound of the laughs that mixed together in warm happiness and floated together through the long hallways; calling her onwards. She swallowed, her movements tense and wound tight like a spring, as she inched further into the school._

_"__Ring a-ring o' roses, __A pocketful of posies__"_

_She could see them in her minds-eye; a blurry and smudged image, like that of a smeared camera lens. Three united figures, tiny fingers grasped fast around each others. A bounce of long red waves, as one girl let loose a happy shriek as her friends spun themselves faster around their little ring. Hands linked in mutual support to stop them falling, they skipped round and round. Tugging and pulling one another on in their private game, relishing the completed circle they made. Broad grins flashed, hair whipped across faces and feet stumbled carelessly, before they would right themselves; never letting the others trip._

_The ripples of laughter shattered to frantic screams and cries as fast as Willow could breathe. The circle had broken._

_Darting into a run, she bolted as fast as her feet would let her. Not caring about the danger that stalked her anymore – she needed to get to them. Now. She had to make things better. They didn't understand what was happening. None of them did._

_Rounding a sharp corner and coming to heavy stop, she finally saw them. They were alone again; lost. The boy she had followed here was huddled on the ground against the wall, which was ravaged and torn in destruction, just like the one opposite. Great slashes had ripped through the plaster in fierce and deadly swipes. The notice board to the side of his head, was hanging by a single corner, hundreds of shreds of paper were strewn across the now empty hallway. His body trembled as he hit small, balled up fists into the sides of his head, over and over again, unable to stop himself. His eyes were screwed shut, locked away in his own distress. Tears sprung to Willow's eyes at the tragic sight and it was a second before she could bring herself to look away at the other child, who stood in the middle of the floor, just ahead. Her back to Willow, she was completely unmoving as she stared off into the darkness that swallowed the end of the hallway. Seeing something Willow couldn't._

_"It took her"_

_The voice whispered so quietly, in so much shock and pain, that it broke Willow's heart. She took a step forward just as the little girl turned around to face her. Bright eyes looked up at her, ever young, yet still full of a strength and wisdom beyond her years. Soft locks of golden hair curled around her face, as tears fell down her cheeks._

_"The wolf took her"_

_Suddenly she lunged forward, running for Willow's embrace, who quickly dropped to her knees, reaching out and ready to catch her. She felt nothing but the helpless urge to hold her tight, to wrap both up so nothing could ever hurt them again. To whisper reassurance in their ears and tell them everything was going to be alright…_

**THUD**

With a yelp that quickly became a groan, Willow struggled to fully open her eyes as it slowly dawned on her that she was no longer in bed. The bump of pain that had hit her head, along with the rest of her body, might be a small indication of that. Pushing herself off the floor, she grimaced and rubbed the back of her skull as she squinted round in the shadows of night that cloaked the room that wasn't her own. Kicking off the sheets that were tangled around her legs, she pulled herself to unsteady feet. Falling out of bed was definitely not the most comfortable way to wake up, but it was certainly effective.

After tossing her crinkled sheets back onto the mattress, Willow just stood quietly in the still darkness for a long moment. Her head was buzzing so loudly, it was almost painful. The residual feeling of anxious confusion weighed heavily, making her press a hand to her forehead as she tried to decrease the pressure. When she opened her eyes, she was taken aback to find them wet and blurry. Stupid dreams. She'd give anything for a peaceful night's sleep. Just one night -- was that too much to ask?!

Turning away, she moved through the darkness until she felt her fingers close around the handle of the door. Not bothering to shut it behind her, she made her way through to the kitchen.

"Willow?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the quietly concerned voice. Looking up from her feet, she was met with the curious gaze of Jenny. She had been so absorbed in trying _not_ to dwell on her restless dreams that she had failed to notice the soft glow of the lamp, which illuminated the kitchen table her host now sat at.

"Miss Ca—Jenny," Willow quickly greeted, hoping she didn't sound as surprised as she felt. "What time is it?" She asked, casting a look around the still dark apartment.

"A little after one," her companion replied, looking back at the screen of her laptop that was opened on the table in front of her. Willow nodded and shifted her gaze away. As much as she liked Jenny and despite living at hers for over a week, the Sunnydale student still felt mortally embarrassed seeing her former computer teacher in her pyjamas. It was just -- weird! She pulled self-consciously at the hem of her own Snoopy T-shirt, feeling a little foolish. Why was she up at this time anyway?

"Did-did I wake you?"

Jenny looked back up from the screen, shaking the studious frown from her features, before quickly assuring, "Oh no. I've been up for a while." She smiled, leaning back and stretching slightly in the stiff wooden chair. She caught Willow's eye, and her light smile took on a shadow of worry.

"Is everything okay?"

"Uh-huh," Willow mumbled automatically, without thinking. "Just thirsty," she explained.

Jenny nodded and Willow managed a small smile, making her way over to the counter. She briefly considered having a cup of coffee. After all, there was no real chance of her falling asleep again any time soon; but she finally decided against it. It tended to make her jumpy anyway. She could feel Jenny's eyes on her back as she filled the tall glass with icy water. Downing half the glass right away, she refilled it before eventually turning off the tap. Guess she really was thirsty after all.

When she turned around, her gaze swept over the various notepads and journals that covered Jenny's half of the table, and her curiosity was piqued, in spite of herself.

"What are you looking for?" She wondered aloud, motioning towards her research. Jenny looked down at the table and sighed. She prodded half-heartedly at the papers full of her neat handwriting.

"Oh it's just," she tugged a hand through her sleep mussed hair and offered Willow a tired smile, "Just something I'm trying to help Rupert with."

Clutching her glass, Willow moved over to sit on an empty chair. "Can I help?"

Jenny hesitated, and the girl noticed that she had subtly moved her notes back together and closed the pads.

"That's okay. To be honest, I'm not too sure what I'm looking for myself at the moment"

Willow frowned and began to object, "But if something's happening--"

Jenny gave a small weary laugh. "Oh, everything's happening. But we can't afford to get too distracted."

Her answers were a lot more ambiguous than Willow was hoping for, but there was a note of finality in her tone that told her it would be fruitless to push on. Instead she watched as the young woman returned to the glow of her computer to make a few quick amendments. She observed her eyes flicker over the screen and her assured fingers tap skilfully across the keyboard, with a strange sadness. She missed her own laptop, she realised with slight surprise just as Jenny gently clicked the lid down with an apologetic smile. Of all the things she had to miss, it was an odd one. Yet it made sense in some way, when she thought about it. It was the physical symbol of a big part of her personality. Of all the hours she had spent doing homework and projects, surfing tech chat rooms, hacking into school and government secret records, researching demon myths and sharing knowledge on Wiccan sites. Sure, she had access to computers here, but they weren't hers. Willow's gaze dropped painfully; nothing here was really hers.

Feeling Jenny's gaze upon her face once more, she hastily recovered herself. Glancing up, she threw the teacher a half smile of reassurance. Jenny opened her mouth but Willow cut her off before she could even start.

"How's your arm?"

If she was surprised at the change of subject, the canny gypsy didn't show it. She only smiled slightly, absently looking over at her right shoulder, to the souvenir of the close-call during yesterday's patrol. "Bashed and bruised, but still in one piece"

_'I know how that feels',_ Willow murmured under her breath. Jenny gave her a funny look, but the teenager didn't notice.

"It's actually almost healed. There's a healing charm that I sometimes use for low level cuts and bruises. It's by no means instant, but it does speed up the process"

"Really?" Willow perked up, keen with interest. "Is it a pure charm or do you apply it in a balm of some kind?"

"It's mainly herbs," Jenny said, smiling at the eagerness that had spread over the young girl's face. "But the magic within gains strength from the blood stream to aid the body's natural healing"

"Oh, I think I've read a spell that works in kind of the same way! Do you remember where you found it?"

A strange look passed over Jenny's face, and she glanced away. When she did answer, the casualness sounded slightly forced. "It-It's just an old... family tradition"

Willow immediately felt awkward. She kept bumping against lines she forgot existed in this reality. Jenny knew about Wiccan magic, that was clearly no secret here, but there were obviously things about her past the teacher was still unwilling to disclose. A wry smile briefly appeared on her lips. Oh boy, could Willow empathise. Kindred spirits indeed. She cast a quick glance over at the woman who was shuffling her various papers and books into a neat stack on the table next to her black laptop. Was she the only one who knew of the smart teacher's true gypsy heritage? Willow slumped back in her chair and gave a mental groan. Oh goody -- more secrets. And not even Jenny knew she knew. To be fair, she couldn't really blame her for not sharing; people hadn't exactly had a good reaction last time in Sunnydale. Though, those _had_ been very exceptional circumstances. Willow chewed her lip in thought. Of course, she could be making a huge assumption here; who's to say she _hadn't_ told Giles? She just may not want to tell her, not knowing that she already knew. Willow thought back to her first night in this world, to that fateful meeting in the library. If she hadn't spoken up then…

Willow was on the verge of just asking, of showing her cards and hoping for the best, when it seemed that Jenny took the same initiative.

"Difficulty sleeping wouldn't be unexpected, I imagine. Considering what you've been through," she looked over at Willow, her words careful and gentle.

The young witch felt her breathing kick up a notch, fragments of her troubled dreams skipping through her mind, before she firmly stomped them down.

"What, what do you mean?" She swallowed and tried to suppress the anxious pitch in her quiet voice. Jenny's face was full of sympathetic understanding, but somehow that made her feel worse.

"Willow, it's alright. You wouldn't be human if it weren't affecting you. You're a whole world away from your home, from everything you knew. It has to trouble you"

Willow wasn't sure if she just imagined the slight question in her words. "It, it gets -- harder, sometimes" she admitted, words barely reaching above a whisper. Breaking away from the softly probing gaze, she took big drink out of her glass and tried to get her exposed emotions under control. The effects of her dreams were so much harder to fend off during the nights. Here, when the voices of her friends seemed to call the loudest in her thoughts, when her mind ran riot in endless mazes of confusion and bitter conflict.

Forcing the last mouthful of freezing water down her dry throat, Willow felt a hand lightly squeeze her wrist that still lay across the table. Lowering the glass, she reluctantly looked back at her late-night companion. She knew the teacher was trying to offer some comfort, but it only laid another anvil over her heart, choking up her chest. She didn't want to talk about it. She knew what her restless nights were about. The hours and hours where her mind dwelt over everything she had left behind. Of all the pain she had unleashed on those she loved and now could never put right. Willow closed her eyes against the tears she could feel forming. She didn't know what she was doing. That was the bottom line. She had no great plan, no clue about the consequences her choice would have on everyone involved. She had jumped first and now she could only struggle to keep her head above water as she got swept along in the current of her own making.

"We will do everything we can, I promise. There must be a way to return you back to your own life, to your friends, and we'll find it. This isn't fair to you"

Jenny watched the effect of her words with astute curiosity as the girl's face grew pale and anxious, even as she gave a jerky nod. Releasing her wrist with a kind smile, she rearranged her papers briefly, giving the teenager a moment to collect herself. There were still questions and concerns to deal with, along with her own gradually growing suspicions, but the teacher pushed them to one side for now until she could make better sense of them.

Willow meanwhile, was busy trying to wrestle her unruly emotions into submission, desperate for some mental breathing space. She didn't have the energy for this right now. Her head felt unbearably hot, burning up with the friction of opposing thoughts grinding against each other. Absently, she brushed her fingers across her forehead before pushing some hair behind her ear. It was hard to believe that she couldn't just call them up; couldn't hear the voices that she had grown up with. She couldn't remember a time, in all her life, when she hadn't had Xander to depend on. She had never faced something this big without Buffy by her side. The loneliness was crushing.

"How..."

Raising her eyes, she saw Jenny studying her thoughtfully. She looked like she was debating with herself. Finally, she went on. "How did it happen? I mean, do you remember anything? Like what you were doing just before you were here?"

The girl's eyes widened briefly, before she glanced away with a small frown. "I-I don't remember much. It-It's kinda, hard to think about." Her words were slightly pleading as she steadfastly avoided the older woman's eye. Tense white fingers flexed around the drinking glass between her hands.

"Okay," Jenny conceded gently after a strained pause.

The redhead visibly relaxed a few knots and flashed a quick apologetic smile across the table. She knew she was going to have to deal with things sooner or later, but she only prayed for some more time to try and figure out her own thoughts more, before she had to worry about expressing them coherently for other people. Everything was still so unresolved.

Mumbling polite excuses, Willow stood up to retreat back to her bedroom and wishful hopes of uninterrupted sleep.

"Willow"

Turning around at the sound of her name, she saw a conflicted look hover over Jenny's face for a moment before she rose from the table to give the surprised girl a brief but very tight hug. Willow froze for a second at the unexpected contact, but quickly returned the embrace, albeit a little awkwardly at first. The faint aroma of Jenny's floral shampoo and lingering perfume, tickled her nose pleasantly. She suddenly realised how much she had missed this kind of closeness; the aching distance she had felt ever since she'd left her own world. Willow had always been a big hug-person, and somehow it made her friends' absence sting a little harsher. With a sad smile, the teacher pulled back to gently rest her hands over the girl's thin upper arms, trying to convey the sincerity in her soft words as she looked into Willow's lightly questioning eyes.

"I'll be here. Whenever you're ready."

There was no expectation or impatience in her tone. Not for this moment. Willow blinked, before slowly returning the kind smile with one of quiet gratitude, the two women coming to a mutual, unspoken understanding.

"Goodnight Willow" Jenny squeezed her arm lightly, before letting her go.

The girl felt a warmth linger on her skin from the fleeting touch of genuine care. She knew the night had to pass eventually; the renewing light of the next day would break in again like it always did. In the end, it came down to endurance. You just had to have the strength to wait it out, the insight to see beyond the darkness, and faith in what you were living another day for.

"Goodnight"

As her bare feet padded softly through the carpeted hall, a small shudder shook her shoulders as Willow braced herself for a further attempt at some dubious rest.

The night couldn't go on forever. Surely?

o0o

* * *

**AN**: I could say a lot about this chapter, but I'd rather hear what you guys think! ;) If you were curious, "_Tu me manques_" means "_I miss you_"

Writing makes me happy, reviews make me happier! :)


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Sorry again for the wait. Hopefully you aren't all too mad with me - thanks for being patient anyway! I was blown away by the responses to my last chapter, thanks so much! You guys are the best! Every one made me grin like an idiot! Hope this next chapter lives up to expectations! ;)

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

"_You shouldn't let go of the things…that make you who you are."_

With the strangely affecting words still echoing in his mind, the hesitant boy ran his hand slowly along the thin ridges that marked the long neck. The tips of his fingers barely skimmed the surface, as if he feared it would scorn his tentative touch with rejection. He was getting better, he observed with a tiny spark of dry humour. The first time he had ventured into the school's music room, a few days after his oddly intense conversation with their newest group member, he had just sat and stared into the cupboard of instruments for an indeterminate amount of time, before abruptly standing and walking out.

He had tried to dismiss the growing desire after that. Attempted to cling vainly to the safe numbing distance that he had grown to depend on so much; to focus solely on the constant fight to survive every day, on the struggle they were immersed in, and to remind himself that this was all that really mattered.

But something had stirred in the depths of that long buried part of him; been somehow awoken and now refused to be forced back to sleep. Oz pinched his eyes shut with a frown. He didn't know how or why the old compulsion had found its way to the surface of his thoughts, but it seemed to have firmly taken root and was now giving him no rest. He had never felt the urge to reopen this old wound so strongly. He'd never been unable to shrug it off before. He had been so sure that part of his life was dead. Over. He had thought he had let it all go.

A light of laughter brightened his eyes as he looked down at the silent instrument one more time. Here he was, Oz – once lead guitarist of Dingoes Ate My Baby – alone in a dark classroom and too nervous to pick up a second hand school guitar. It was more than faintly ridiculous.

Sighing to himself, he closed a determined hand around the neck and lifted the battered acoustic out of the cupboard. There was no-one around after all; if this turned out to be one of his worst ideas, at least there would be no witnesses to his regretful embarrassment. He could toss it back behind the cupboard door and walk away with the bleak confidence that he was right to abandon futile dreams. He could take the taunting doubt that had suddenly gripped his mind, and lay it to rest for good. No-one would ever know about his moment of weakness, and he would have his answer.

With a deep breath, he settled on one of the empty desks and pulled the instrument into his lap. It felt a little heavier than he remembered, yet the elegant bulk was a comforting weight against his body, grounding him somehow. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected to feel in this small but delicately dangerous action. Fresh assaults of old pain, guilt and grief, jaded anger and apathetic acceptance. A new wave of cold hurt as he realised it was just another lost connection, one he already knew that he could never recapture. It was too late for him. It was too hard.

He certainly didn't expect it to feel like coming home.

Oz adjusted the instrument across his legs, silently marvelling as the well worn curves slipped into such a familiar hold. He ran his thumb lightly over the sharp strings and grimaced as the uneven notes rippled through the hollow wood and out into the air. He moved automatically to the keys, twisting the metal screws with assured tweaks, his sharp ears catching the subtle shifts in tuning. Satisfied, he strummed once more, feeling the tightened strings hum beneath his fingers.

It had been so long since he had played. All that time spent trying to forget. So much had happened since the last time he had picked up a guitar. The town had changed beyond recognition. He had changed.

His hands moved of their own accord, even as his thoughts scattered. Absently they trailed up the neck and fell into long ingrained positions upon the silver frets. It still felt as natural as breathing. A slight, cautious smile pulled at his mouth as the boy let his fingers brush against the strings, drawing soft lingering notes from the old instrument, vibrating through his rough skin to float into the darkness of the deserted music room.

For a long moment Oz was pulled into the recesses of his memories, with such force that his taught fingers seized against the cutting strings. Every time he had sat cross legged on the campus grass, under the beating sun, strumming mindless tunes to himself; writing wordless songs in the comfortable solitude of the back of his van; making odd adjustments as they waited for Devon to show up at rehearsal; one last practice in the musicians' area of the Bronze; playing on stage, under hot spotlights, to crowds of students. It was funny how the body remembered things the mind thought lost. The amount of recall placed in a single touch; the feelings tied up with physical sensations, in notes and songs played out over and over again.

The music spoke to something deep inside him. Something real and core; stronger than the darkness he had grown used to living in. Something that would never leave him, despite all his best efforts to deny. An unchangeable part of who he was. Something he needed more than he'd ever realised.

She was right.

His brows knitted together unconsciously. Deft fingers continued to shift and strum, creating chords of an old Dingoes song that had been a particular favourite of his. The peacefully familiar music drifted in the back of his thoughts as the guitarist let his mind wander away in its new-found direction.

o0o

Tennis shoes squeaked on polished floors as Willow jogged through the corridors back from the science lab. The small beakers chinked in her hands as she moved towards the library, her mind running over the night-vision spell she had found. It was advanced out of her level, she knew that, but there was no harm in trying right?

Jerking to a stop, the witch tilted her head and frowned, straining her ears. The sound she had imagined so often since she had been here; had missed so much; that she played over and over in her memory as she drifted off to sleep; that had once threaded through her whole world, the loving and intimate soundtrack to her life. Was she imagining things again or… Turning round Willow took a few cautious steps back along the hall. The quiet music grew clearer as she approached the music room. Carefully, she poked her head round the open door and peered into the dim light.

Her gaze was immediately drawn to a single silhouette at the back of the classroom. Her eyes widened as they took in his unmistakable poise as he sat on the desk, his feet propped up on the table in front and a guitar placed across his lap. Her heart skipped a beat as a slow grin spread across her face. She sighed quietly as the soft notes of plucked strings and sliding fingers continued to drift across the dark room in warm waves. She was so lost in the sight and sounds that were so dear to her heart, she almost didn't recognise the song. The smile widened even more. It was an old Dingoes song: Fate. She had always liked that one; it had a wonderful guitar solo and was more acoustic in tone than many of their others. She watched as Oz bent his head over the instrument, those beautifully agile hands moving gracefully with precision and care. The song wept from the guitar in sweet, haunting notes that seemed to call and pull inside her. Oz's music was something so special.

Pressing her forehead against the outer door frame, Willow closed her eyes happily. Indefinable. But she would try anyway. Anyone else could play the exact notes with the exact timing but it wouldn't be half as powerful, not nearly as beautiful to her ears. There was so much of him in his music, it was something so in sync with his soul. They say everyone has a medium, and if hers was magic – his was definitely music. When he wanted to, he could express everything in wordless songs, more than he would ever speak to most people. And she could hear things when he played, that no-one else would. When he made every note his alone. She would listen, for minutes or hours, and she'd just know.

A small giggle escaped her. The song stopped. Willow quickly opened her eyes and saw his head look up in her direction. _Oops. Caught_. She hesitated for a second, before lifting her chin an inch and slowly walking round the door to step just inside the classroom. The light was still off and his face was shadowed across the desks. She fiddled with the beakers in her hands and the glass scraped. She smiled guiltily in the dark. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I heard, and I just…" She shifted her feet and rubbed her shoes together awkwardly. Oz was quiet and Willow glanced away nervously. "I liked the song. It's nice. You're really good."

"Thanks."

She almost laughed with relief when he finally spoke. His silences never used to unnerve her, but her emotions were so on edge when she was around him here. There was quiet for a moment, and Willow was torn between switching the light on and making a run for it. She felt like she had intruded on a very private scene. Oz never used to mind her interruptions; very much not mind in fact. But she couldn't help fearing that this Oz did resent her presence now. She was confused. Confused and emotional. Oh dear...

"It's called 'Fate'."

Willow's head jerked up and she squinted through the shadows. He didn't sound cross, but it was hard to tell with him sometimes. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she thought she saw a small smile pass over his face.

"The song," he added.

"Oh, cool." She wasn't sure whether to share that she already knew that. Maybe not just now.

"Used to play it with my old band, long time ago."

The smile slipped. Willow edged further forward into the room, the jars pressed tight against her chest. "What-what happened?" For a second she wanted to hit herself as she saw his shoulders slump so slightly. He was going to close up on her, she had pushed too far--

"They were killed."

Willow felt her heart drop at his quiet words. She hadn't suspected a happy outcome but it was still painful to hear it. The boy's grip tightened on the guitar and he looked away with a sour expression.

"Well, some weren't so lucky."

She frowned. There were only a few desks between them and she could hear the bitterness in his usually neutral voice. "You-You mean…"

"Turned."

She swallowed and was quiet. His breathing was slightly unsteady but his face was a mask as he gazed down at the floor. Having to kill his former best mates… He suppressed an unpleasant shudder. Just another memory he would rather forget.

"Oh, Oz…"

He looked up at her as she whispered his name. Her face was full of the anguish he felt inside. He watched as she bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes with a frown. The light from the hall outside filtered into the room in a steady golden glow, softly illuminating the deep red waves that touched her shoulders and fell against her neck. Long black lashes fluttered against her cheek as she opened those clear bright eyes again and caught his.

"I-I'm sorry."

The moment shifted and changed, and Oz found himself almost dazed as he came back to her spoken words. Strangely unsure of himself, he dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"I know how it... I mean, to have to, to see, I, um..."

He watched curiously as the girl fumbled uncomfortably with the sentence she had begun. She shifted and nudged into the desk behind her. Her balance was unsteadied and the momentum unfortunately carried her backwards to knock into the desk more forcefully. With a yelp of surprise, she tried to right herself but as her arms juggled the beakers, one slipped free.

Willow mentally cursed her own clumsiness as the tinkling of broken glass sounded from the ground at her feet. Dropping to her knees she quickly began picking up the shards. Oz swiftly propped the guitar against the desk and joined her on the floor.

"That was stupid! Should we get a brush? I'm always breaking something. Hope the science lab has got spares. Maybe I should turn the light on? It's okay really, I'll clear it up, it was my fault--"

"Willow." She glanced up from her apologetic rambling to see Oz eyeing her with amusement. "It's only a beaker. Think Mr William's class will survive"

"Oh yeah, okay."

Quickly bowing her head again, Willow's fingers trembled slightly as she gathered the broken pieces into the most intact portion of the jar. She flinched as she felt the sting of an errant sliver slice the tip of her finger and quickly moved it to her mouth as it began to bleed.

"Ow," she mumbled without looking up. She didn't dare catch his eye. He was so close. His head was inches from hers and she could see his hands moving across her vision; black coated nails, paint worn and chipped, closed around brittle pieces as they collected the shattered glass around them. She felt her cheeks burning, and fervently hoped it wasn't visible in the low light.

Oz glanced up when he heard her mutter, only to pause as Willow raised her slender left ring finger to her soft parted lips. His gaze lingered, caught in the innocent gesture for a suspended second. His heart thumped loudly in his chest and Oz quickly snapped back to himself. Thankfully, her concentration was still focused down and he hastily resumed tidying.

In under a minute, they had picked up the last of the fragments and got to their feet once more. Willow smiled before hurrying to deposit the broken jar in the class bin. Walking back, she stopped to retrieve the surviving beakers from the desk top where she had left them.

"Thanks."

Oz shrugged off the gratitude and Willow hovered awkwardly for a second. "Well, I should go," she said and turned to weave back through the rows of desks. At the doorway she hesitated and turned back. He was leaning against the desk she had just stood at, the faded design of a Ramones band emblem just visible on his shirt, his face calm and unreadable as usual.

"Oz?"

He raised an eyebrow. Willow was caught in his gaze for a split-second before the words came back to her. She smiled brightly. "I-I'm really glad you're playing again."

There was no way he could know the weight of feeling behind her simple words; the meaning of the joy that had captured her heart in a wild embrace, or the lonely ache of sadness that burned in the back of her throat.

His lips twitched up for a moment, before his face fell back into that stoic expression she knew so well.

"See you back in the library?"

He nodded once and Willow gave a small wave before disappearing back into the hall.

He listened to her steps patter down the corridor for a minute before silence crept back into the room. After another moment, he slowly lifted himself off the desk and crossed back to his original seat. Bending to pick up the guitar from where it stood, he rested it across his legs once more. With one last glance towards the open door, he let his restless hands reclaim their positions. His mouth lifted in a private smile as the rise and fall of quiet music slowly filled the classroom again.

o0o

* * *

**AN** So there you go - a pretty Oz-heavy chapter, with some very significant action ;) Hope it didn't disappoint! Your feedback means everything. This was a fun chapter to write and has one of my favourite lines in it! Oz may not be big with the chatter, but when he does - it's worth listening! Kudos to people who spot it ;)

Reviews are good karma! xx


	19. Chapter Eighteen : Part One

Special mention to Crazy-Girl and Andy - you were spot on with the line in the last chapter ;) Kudos!

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Part One**

"Ahhh!!"

Willow slammed into a splintery pile of stacked boards and toppled to the damp ground. Biting back a grimace, she flipped onto her back and groped for the stake in her pocket. She heard the shouts of the others as they struggled to find their feet in the wake of the ambush.

"What? No friendly 'hello'?!" a fuming Annie announced from somewhere behind her, as she proceeded to smash an empty drinks crate over a snarling head.

A hand suddenly grasped Willow's ankle, startling her. With a yelp she kicked and fumbled backwards on the rough grit. A light rain had begun to fall in the last ten minutes or so, and appeared to have aided their attack party in sneaking up on the cautious kids. Oz had alerted them a second before the first one hurled out of the darkness.

The four of them had been sent to check out a newly abandoned warehouse in the east of the town. Giles wanted to know if the vampires had already moved in; they were supposed to gauge the area and activity. The Watcher was running himself ragged recently, almost frantic in his efforts to build up a map of the most populated areas; the Master's bases and operations.

Apparently, this place wasn't as abandoned as they'd hoped.

With a well aimed blow, Annie finished off her attacker and turned to rescue Mike from one that had thrown him to the ground and was currently delivering merciless kicks to his gut.

Oz barely managed to duck away from a black haired boy in a fitted Metallica t-shirt, who had backed him into the wall and lunged round his defences in a frenzied attempt to reach his neck. Breathing hard, he scooped up a rusty, metal rod from the cluttered alley to help him beat back their would-be killers.

A stunning young woman with black streaked blonde hair and a curvy figure, which was only enhanced by the skin fitting leather trousers and jacket she was clad in, caught Willow's arm in mid-strike and yanked harshly. With a cry of pain, the wood slipped from her loose fingers as the cold hand clamped around her wrist and twisted.

The svelte blonde smirked as she smoothly disarmed the helpless girl. It was so much more fun when they tried to fight back. In a sharp movement, her other hand flew to the fragile neck of the redhead and with a jerk she flung her sideways to hit into the wall. She crumpled at her feet. As she switched into game face with a low snarl, anticipating the imminent victory, she cocked her head and looked closer at the grimacing girl below her. Why did she look so familiar?

That hesitation turned out to be life-saving.

Ignoring the aching twinges in her wrist, Willow twisted on the ground and reached her good arm over to grasp the fallen stake. Her injured joint screamed in protest as she was forced to lean on it awkwardly, but she pushed on. She heard the sharp, agonised yell above her as she plunged the vicious point through the vampire's designer boot with as much force as she could muster. Seizing her chance, Willow kicked up and slammed her foot against the snarling blonde's shin. It was then a race to see who could rise to their feet first; that split second advantage was everything.

Annie could barely see what was happening around her and the hazy darkness didn't help with distinguishing friend from foe. Having turned Mike's tormentor to dust, she didn't even feel the one behind her until a strong hand grabbed a handful of her hair, making her cry out as her head was snapped back, exposing her throat dangerously. Forcing her eyes open just in time to see a set of razor fangs looming towards her neck, she acted on panicked instinct. Using the only leverage she had, she rammed her feet into the ground and threw her body back into her captor as hard as she could. She felt the grip on her head loosen in the instant she overbalanced them, and quickly braced herself as they both fell backwards and crashed into the ground.

Wrenching herself away from the vampire's writhing body and violently grasping hands, she skidded across the alleyway and fumbled in the shadows for the crossbow she had dropped. She flinched as glass shards cut into her fingers and damp dirt sank under her nails but she dug on through the filthy gutter regardless. She was sure she had dropped it around here! Annie battled to keep the rioting fear and anger under control, attempted to force the adrenaline into clear focus, but she couldn't block out the rumbling snarls and stifled yells that filled the night around them. It had to be here. Her silent pleas were finally answered as her scrambling hands fell upon the familiar shape of curved wood and sharp arrows amongst the slick, wet rubbish. Hauling the weapon into her grip and pressing her back against the warehouse wall, she cast a look about in the chaos for some hopeful sign that the fight was turning in their favour.

She caught sight of Oz's form as he suddenly moved into her vision and intercepted the same vamp that had nearly broken her neck. Her heart leapt into her throat but just as he managed to shove the demon away from him, she glimpsed the tip of a wooden blade protruding out its chest. She watched with a rush of vindicated satisfaction as with a look of dismay, the hollow body became nothing more than a shower of gritty dust upon the wet ground. She tried to catch Oz's eye in thanks, but he was already looking the other way, at something she couldn't see through the scuffle. Glancing to her other side, Annie felt a terrified rage storm her stomach as she spotted a sly vamp duck out of the fight and descend greedily on the weakened form of Mike. The trembling boy winced as he spat out blood, unwittingly spurring on the hungry vampire. _Cowardly bastard_, she fumed. Eyes blazing, she flung herself to her feet.

Willow watched in horror as her opponent yanked the bloody stake out of her foot with a chilling hiss of fury. The seething hatred in her contorted features made Willow's already frantic heart hammer like a deranged animal in her chest. Tripping over her feet, she barely managed to dodge out of reach. This wasn't a game anymore -- this girl wanted to tear her limb from limb.

"Oi!" Annie yelled furiously, giving the vampire a split second to glance up at her before her boot collided into his face with a horrible crunch, sending him sprawling back into the alley. Bending down, she gave a strained smile to Mike's ashen face as her eyes anxiously scanned his neck. Just as she grasped his hand to pull him up, his eyes widened, his grip tightening on her fingers. A warning half-formed on his lips before she felt a hand close around her throat from behind and haul her away from him.

As quickly as she had been grabbed, a cry abruptly filled her ears, along with the hiss of burning flesh. She staggered as she was dropped. Catching her breath, Annie stared in morbid fascination as the vampire recoiled away, his lower face covered with smeared blood from his freshly smashed nose, one hand clutching his left wrist. Gleaming amber eyes looked up from his shaking palm and threw a venomous glare at the silver crucifix necklace that swung around Annie's neck.

She tensed and stepped back as the enraged vampire lunged towards her with a shuddering snarl. She'd barely raised the crossbow up to firing level before his weight slammed into her painfully, encasing her smaller body in brutal vice grip. Twisting her head away from his mouth as much as she could, she closed her eyes and squeezed her finger. The arrow shot through his unbeating heart at point blank range; not a second too soon.

_Why can't things ever go according to plan?_ Willow cursed to herself as she ducked a flying fist that left an impressive dent in the warehouse wall behind her head. She wheeled round again to face the stylish vamp and dug the wooden cross out of her deep jacket pocket. Hastily thrusting it out before her, she watched as her opponent gave a low snarl as she was forced to back off a few steps.

Both breathing hard, the two girls stared at each other through the protective barrier of the crucifix. The blonde frowned again as she studied the redhead properly for the first time. "I know you," she said slowly.

The witch raised her eyebrows, an unsettled feeling churning in her stomach. She didn't like where this was going.

"Willow!"

She started as she heard Oz's voice, but she didn't dare move her gaze away from the volatile stand-off to search out his face. She felt her heart drop as she saw awful recognition dawn over the girl's twisted features.

"It can't be," she uttered, her eyes wide in stunned disbelief.

Willow gulped and tried to force her brain to work, but it seemed stuck in panic mode. In the blink of an eye the blonde's face hardened dangerously and she lurched forward. Startled, she almost dropped the cross. Gathering her senses just in time and with a few clumsy steps back, she managed to keep it raised. The vampire hissed as she was forced to retreat at the last second.

"What_ is_ this?!"

Willow gave a small, shaky smile despite the imminent threat of the situation. She couldn't help it. "It's -- complicated," she answered honestly.

Yellow eyes flashed over her shoulder for a second and the vampire scowled darkly as she took in the status of the alley. Stepping back with a grimace, she locked eyes with Willow again. "This isn't over." With that last parting promise, she turned and fled into the welcoming darkness.

Willow let out a deep breath and slowly lowered her trembling arm, still staring into the shadows where her enemy had vanished. She knew he was there even before she felt the gentle touch on her arm. Shaking the lingering threat out of her head, she turned to meet his worried gaze. "I'm okay," she assured with a tentative smile in response to his questioning eyes. She quickly took in his state, anxious to confirm the same. His jacket was ripped apart at a few seams and they all were all coated in dirt from scuffling about in the filthy alley, but other than being bashed and out of breath, neither of them looked too bad considering they'd just been fighting for their lives.

"I guess we won?" she wondered out loud, looking into the black night again with all the mistrust she felt that it would attack her again the second she turned her back on it. She felt Oz's voice close by, his reassuring presence at her side a shield of warmth against the darkness that threatened them. "Maybe," he conceded sceptically. "For now."

"Are the others all right?" She looked behind them along the narrow street to where the dark figure of Annie was leaning over a body on the ground. She felt her stomach turn uncomfortably. Sharing a panicked glance, they began to run over -- Willow suddenly dreading the answer to her own question.

"Mike!" she cried in horror as she dropped to her knees beside him. His eyes were tightly closed, as if he were concentrating very hard on not being sick; his arm that wasn't braced against the ground, wrapped tightly around his stomach. Willow desperately tried to see what external injuries he was suffering and panicked when she saw no apparent cause. "Michael?" She questioned again in a softer voice, gripping his shoulder as she tried to get him to look at her.

Annie stood up as they arrived, her face hard with determination. "What happened?" Oz asked quietly as he came up next to her, eyes fixed on his friend's crumpled body, curled up against the metal wall of the warehouse. Her voice was tight as she answered. "One got a couple of good blows in before I reached him." The look in her eyes strongly suggested she thought dusting was too kind an end for the vampire in question.

Mike pried his eyes open and immediately saw Willow's concerned face. He gave a weak smile and tried to sit up. "It's not that bad, I promise. I'll just have some sore bruises, nothing I can't handle."

"But you could have broken ribs! Internal bleeding! I mean—"

"Will," Mike interrupted with a slightly pained expression.

"Sorry," she apologised. "I'm not helping am I?"

"Maybe just save the freaking out till I'm not in earshot. Or at least passed out," he tried to joke.

She managed a nervous grin but the worry didn't fade from her face as she helped him sit up against the wall. A violent spasm shot through her wrist with the movements, causing her to wince badly.

"Willow?"

She looked up to see Oz's face and knew her moment of silent pain hadn't gone unnoticed. She shook her head. "It's fine. It can wait," she told him in a firm voice.

Oz frowned but stayed silent. There was nothing but the soft patter of misty rain for the space of several deep breaths, quiet but steady as it slowly filled the murky puddles around the small group. When Annie suddenly spoke up, it startled everyone.

"Let's see what they were hiding then."

Without pausing to wait for a response, she purposefully stepped away to head over to the poorly barred entrance to the building. They clearly weren't the first to break in, she thought darkly.

Oz quickly caught up and grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop briefly. "What do you mean?"

She met his eyes with a defiant stare. "I'm going to do what we came to do," she informed him in a matter of fact tone before pulling her elbow free.

"Annie, wait!"

She was already inside when the urgent yell reached her ears, but she ignored it. Shoving her way through the accumulated clutter of years of storage, she strode briskly further into the beckoning darkness. She threw cursory glances left and right as she wandered through the warehouse corridors, but didn't pay much mind. Everything seemed empty; in a terrible mess, but pretty empty. Whatever this place was, it wasn't a living space. Despite their tendencies to dwell in the dingy underground and however fitting the sewers seemed to be to their vermin natures in her opinion, she'd learned that most vampires preferred to live in some degree of style and comfort; the Master especially. She set her jaw and twitched her fingers around the bow trigger in taught anticipation; she was more than ready for anything they had in store.

Oz hastily slipped into the building after her, a very bad feeling coiling in his gut. He picked up her footsteps immediately and cursed under his breath. He moved quickly, but more cautiously than his companion, as he followed her trail through the large interior. The relative darkness wasn't as much of a problem for him. He channelled away the edgy frustration and concentrated on finding Annie and getting her back out. Vampires had certainly been here, that was for sure, but all indications so far were that they hadn't lingered excessively. Even so, Oz didn't feel like pushing their already lousy luck tonight.

Stepping over a pile of crushed cardboard, he suddenly stopped; every muscle in his body tensing. His head jerked up and he stared away into the heart of the warehouse with a sinking heart. The bad feeling abruptly exploded into horrific realisation. He knew what she would find. Darting into a run, he sprinted ahead though he knew he couldn't stop her; that he would be too late.

He staggered heavily as he burst into the room, the smell hitting him like a swamping tidal wave; so overpowering that his eyes stung and it burned in the back of his throat. He wondered vaguely how he had failed to sense it sooner. There was so much. It took a moment to get his reeling head under control and bring himself to focus his gaze at the carnage.

They were scattered all about the large room, slumped amongst the discarded storage cages and tossed aside like empty and used shells. Lifeless, white eyes bulging out in terror, hanging limply from ravaged necks and ripped bodies. They had been all but torn apart in frenzied hunger; some had been hurled against the walls with such brutal strength that their spines had broken, leaving their snapped bodies collapsed in impossible positions upon the blood-soaked floor. Oz felt the horror seep inside him, clawing at his insides like clammy fingers, chilling his bones and dripping into his stomach like sick, black tar. It was suffocating. There were at least dozen of them, he assessed as his eyes flickered over the room. The attacks had been savage but uncoordinated. His gaze travelled to one of the smaller bodies that had been dropped in the far corner. Long brunette hair fell across her back and obscured her face in such a way that the little girl could have almost been sleeping, if not for the large, sticky, crimson puddle she lay in. He shut his eyes before forcing himself to look away. They hadn't stood a chance.

With controlled, shallow breaths to keep the stench of death at a bearable level, he approached the frozen figure that stood inside the room just a few steps ahead of him.

"Looks like we missed the party," he commented quietly, no trace of ironic humour in his dark words. Annie made little sign of having heard him. Her whole body was stiff and rigid as her eyes continued to sweep over the scene, again and again, like she was helpless to break away.

"Come on, we should get back to the others," he said firmly, though he too couldn't stop his gaze from jumping back into the bloody shadows. His voice was forced as he spoke again, "There's nothing we can do now"

Annie moved to look at him like she wanted to argue the point, but Oz had already turned to leave. His light footsteps seemed to echo sharply in the dark tomb; little ripples that broke the eternal stillness of death's silence. Her heart was thudding painfully. They couldn't just leave them here! She felt the anger surge back before being washed away again by sheer despair. But they couldn't stay. They couldn't do anything. She heard him call her name from the open doorway behind her; a slight warning in his tone. Swallowing heavily, she cast one last look into the room before dragging her gaze away. Reluctantly, she turned to follow him back out.

o0o

The rain seemed to be stopping, Willow noticed as she spared a quick glance up into the cloudy night sky. She was still crouched protectively next to Mike; mind alert and body tensely wired as she tried to keep an eye out for trouble without leaving his side. She threw another look over her shoulder at the warehouse entrance, but there was no sign of them. Mike was drawing quiet, ragged breaths and seemed to be curling tighter into himself in an effort to control the pain. Willow rambled in a nervous stream of chatter, mainly to reassure him she was still there, but partly also to comfort herself in the dangerously deserted street.

"Willow?"

She shifted closer and met his dark chocolate eyes anxiously, "Yeah?"

There was a pause as he let his gaze drift over her face thoughtfully, as if she were a curious puzzle he was still trying to work out. "Thanks," he finally finished; voice soft and sincere.

She flashed him a small, tender smile and for one moment, the dingy alleyway didn't seem quite so threatening to them both. Raising her hand, Willow gently moved his damp hazel curls back from his forehead and frowned as she noticed the bruise that was spreading along his temple. She was a little alarmed when Mike suddenly shifted and groaned as he tried to push himself off the ground on shaky arms. She hastily sat up on her knees. "No, don't move," she ordered in dismay.

Mike slumped and gave her a funny look that was half amused and half annoyed. "I have to move some time," he pointed out.

"Yeah," she admitted reluctantly, "But not until you have to."

His eyes moved to something just behind her and Willow immediately tensed, good hand reaching for the cross on the ground next to her, before she heard his questioning voice.

"Find anything?"

Turning, she saw Oz and Annie approaching and quickly climbed to her feet to meet them. Her relief was soon overshadowed however by the dark look on their faces.

Oz shook his head once as he answered shortly. "Nothing we could help." Annie was unusually subdued and hung back a few steps, her jaw tight and eyes unsettled. Willow looked back and forth between them before her gaze flickered to the building that stood beside them all, and whatever horror hung within.

"Getting out of here might be a good plan," Oz announced, taking quiet charge of the situation. "Let's get to Giles's."

It was the first and safest place he could think of, and seemed the only logical course of action to the shaken boy. Besides, he thought as he moved to assist Willow in lifting Mike from the ground, they needed help and the Watcher needed to know about this. The mangled corpses flashed vividly in front of him again and he closed his eyes tightly in a bid to clear the image.

"Oz?"

He looked over to see Willow eyeing him with clear concern. For a moment he feared she had somehow gleaned the horrific memory from his pained eyes.

"What happened?" she asked him in a low voice so only they could hear.

He tried to give a reassuring smile but it may have come across more as a grimace. "Later," he promised quietly. He could see she had more questions but with a small nod, she put them aside. Oz didn't have that luxury as he was forced to watch the bloody scenes play over and over again through his mind. Gritting his teeth, he fought through them; it was only another nightmare to add to the extensive catalogue he had already learned to live with. It was getting pretty crowded in there, he thought grimly.

And so it was that the tattered band of fighters began to make their way back; Willow and Oz supporting Mike between them while a silently brooding Annie was more than willing to be look out. Indeed, she seemed almost disappointed when they failed to encounter any demonic foes in the short distance back to the hidden van, a few blocks over.

o0o

Willow glanced to her side at Oz, but his sight was fixed firmly on the empty road as he sped them through the well-known streets to the Watcher's apartment. His hands gripped tighter on the wheel as he pulled the van round a corner; his gaze dark and distant, still trapped back in that damned warehouse. Willow swallowed as she watched him, wishing she knew what to say to bring the light back into those intense and troubled eyes. She opened her mouth like she wanted to speak, but shut it again with a sad look. Biting her lip, she turned instead to direct her gaze out the window.

* * *

**AN** This is a split chapter because I thought it was getting a bit too long to be put all together, plus there are a few different parts to it. Reviews and feedback are always appreciated.


	20. Chapter Eighteen : Part Two

Here we go with the second part. Hope you enjoy. Reviews and feedback are always appreciated :)

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen **

**Part Two  
**

"Oh my god!"

Jenny abandoned her place at the messy desk and rushed over to help the exhausted kids who were struggling through Giles's doorway.

"Yeah, sorry for the crash visit," Oz said with a heavy breath as he and Willow half-dragged Mike into the apartment with them. Giles, whose face had been a priceless expression of surprise when he had answered the door to the dramatic scene, quickly gathered himself and relieved them of their friend's weight as Jenny ushered the stumbling group inside and bolted the door securely shut again behind them.

Giles helped Mike hobble across the room to the worn sofa, where he gratefully collapsed.

"Are you alright? What happened?" Jenny scanned the remaining three intently, anxiously touching their faces and arms to help assure herself they were more or less okay. Oz and Annie exchanged a sombre glance.

"Ran into trouble," Oz finally answered in his usual succinctness. Annie flinched almost unnoticeably, and quickly walked over to join Mike and Giles.

"They came out of nowhere," Willow was mumbling, still slightly in shock with everything that had happened.

"Jenny?"

Giles stood up from examining Mike, a grim expression on his tired features. Jenny immediately went over to them, Oz and Willow close at her heels. Mike looked distinctly uncomfortable with all the attention he was receiving but agreed to let Jenny look at him. It wasn't the first time the magically gifted teacher had tended to their injuries after all, though he was very aware of Willow, Annie and Oz who hovered around the sofa, watching him with concern.

"What happened exactly?" she questioned again, not raising her eyes from her hands that were pressing experimentally against Mike's chest.

"Some dumb vamp got the better of me for a moment. It's no big deal. I'll be fine, really. I –- Ow!" His casual attempt to shrug off the attack was hindered a little with Mike's undignified yelp as Jenny managed to find a particularly sore muscle.

"Glad to see at least your ego isn't bruised," she said with an innocent smirk. Willow tried to hide a grin and Oz's lips twitched as Mike shot them a scowl.

"Well, I don't think anything is broken," she announced, sitting back on the sofa and giving him an appraising look. "You've been lucky, considering. But you do have some bruised ribs and pulled muscles. Hmm, I might have something for that," she continued thoughtfully.

Willow zoned out of the rest of the conversation and slumped against the wall, closing her eyes in relief. It felt like everything had been racing in fast speed ever since that first moment of attack and she knew she hadn't given herself a second to process anything. She could feel it all there, swirling at the edge of her mind dauntingly, but she willed it back for a few moments longer.

After another minute, Jenny stood up and moved through to the kitchen where she began rummaging through the cupboards, silently followed by Oz. Giles was standing at the end of the sofa, looking thoroughly worn out. "I'm sorry," he uttered quietly.

Mike looked up at him with a frown. "Thanks…but it's not your fault. _You_ didn't kick the crap out of us in that alleyway"

Giles gave a humourless chuckle. They were wrong; it was his fault. He'd been damn near obsessed recently, and the ones he cared about were paying the price.

Willow lifted her head off the wall. "Yeah," she agreed. "And besides, we did manage to check out that warehouse after all," she went on encouragingly, trying to give the dejected Watcher some sense of a silver lining.

Giles looked up with cautious interest. "You did?"

"Well," she quickly amended, "Oz and Annie did." She went quiet again, remembering the dulled horror that had tinged his eyes when she'd asked what had happened there. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bright side after all, she thought sadly.

The kettle began whistling from the kitchen before it was quickly removed from the stove. Willow glanced over, trying to spy what the gypsy was brewing up, but she was soon distracted as Oz re-emerged into the living room. She looked down at the folded cloth in his hand and raised her eyebrows at him. With a patient expression, he reached out to let his fingers skim the fragile bone at her wrist in silent answer. A fiery jolt tingled through her arm that had nothing to do with the injured joint.

"Oh," she breathed, feeling dimly foolish but unable to really focus on the emotion in the heat that had suddenly spread to her face. Quickly breaking away from his gaze in a desperate effort to control the blush that she could feel lurking just behind her cheeks, she moved to take the wrapped ice cubes from him. She was confused however when he stepped away and motioned for her to follow.

They sat down at the kitchen counter stools and she obligingly laid her arm across the surface to let him carefully press the sharp, cooling ice against her throbbing wrist. Willow made a face at the biting contrast of the frozen pack on her warm skin but she breathed through it. Oz glanced up apologetically, but she smiled at him.

"I know you don't handle thanks that great but – well, you know," she teased softly.

He gave her a curious look and she quickly glanced off towards the kitchen. She busied herself with watching Jenny's methodical actions as she laid aside the pestle and added the crushed herbs to the simmering liquid on the stove. A fragrant smell tickled Willow's senses as the pagan carefully poured the hot drink into a mug on the side. "Oh! Comfrey Leaf!" she exclaimed excitedly as the name of the familiar smell came back to her. "I'd have never thought of that," she commented quietly in admiration.

Jenny smiled as she finished the final touches to the medicinal potion. She'd become quite adept at this kind of magic since she'd been in Sunnydale. There had been more than enough reasons to practice, unfortunately. Of course, it helped that it was in her blood to begin with. Giving a last stir, she eyed the finished product critically before nodding to herself.

"Yes, the healing properties are quite potent if you-" Her conversational tone dropped when she turned and saw them at the counter. "Willow," she frowned; every note in her voice a reprimand. "Why didn't you say something?"

The girl lowered her gaze and shifted guiltily. She tried to pull her arm back but Oz closed his fingers around her hand and kept the ice firmly in place. "It doesn't hurt that badly. I more or less forgot about it really"

Well that was a big fat lie. The twisting ache had been getting steadily worse for a while and although she had forced herself to ignore it up until now, once the adrenaline of danger had begun to subside, the pain had started coming back with a vengeance. She shot the teacher a sheepish look and judging from the look on her face, she clearly wasn't buying her oh-so-brilliant lies.

With a disapproving sigh, Jenny shook her head and headed out the kitchen. "Here." She handed the mug over to Mike, who was curled up in the corner of the couch.

Grasping the offered cup tentatively, he gave the still smoking potion a dubious look. "Um, it's not that I don't trust you Miss Calendar…"

Jenny rolled her eyes at the boy, who was holding the pungent drink as far as possible from his face and eyeing it with suspicion. "Then drink up," she commanded gently. "It will do you more good than a night in the hospital, I assure you."

With an apprehensive expression, Mike sighed in resignation. "Bottoms up," he toasted weakly and took a large gulp. He resisted the urge to pinch his nose as he drank; it may have been magical but it was no treat for the taste buds, that was for sure.

"You know, if you add cinnamon or camomile, it might take the edge off it" Willow mused quietly from the corner. The quest to make magic more pleasing on the senses had always intrigued her; it was just a matter of being a bit creative. She was sure she could spice up Jenny's potions with nice flavours if she thought about it; however, her attention didn't stray for very long.

The ice was serving its purpose dutifully, bringing down the slight swelling around the joint, and she was very thankful. The 'getting looked after' part made the 'getting hurt' part almost worth it. Oz gently turned her hand, his fingertips grazing her palm, as he readjusted the pack. Willow chewed her lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. Warmth sparkled through her skin; a bright contrast to the numbing ice. His tender concentration on her was so reminiscent of their old relationship, that it was almost disconcerting. Willow felt trapped in a déjà vu. Yet as much as she longed to indulge in the memories, she reluctantly forced herself to refocus on the reality, knowing it would only hurt all the more when he looked up to meet her eyes; sweet concern and care in his gaze, but no recognition or love that would have once been there.

"Ahem." Giles cleared his throat from the other side of the room, causing heads to look up in his direction expectantly. "Uh, Willow mentioned you were able to explore the area," he looked to Oz and Annie in turn and was not heartened by their expressions. Still he pressed on resolutely. "What did you find?"

It was a gently demanding question and Oz knew he deserved an answer. They all did. He let his hand slip from Willow's and stood up to face them. He glanced over to see Annie look up briefly from where she had slumped on the staircase, but she quickly dropped her head over her knees again and shuddered. Guess he would be fielding this one. He could feel Willow's curious gaze from next to him and the waiting stares of the others. He met Giles's eye solemnly though he spoke to the room at large. "It was an awakening nest"

There was a pregnant pause as his quiet words sunk in. Annie huddled further into the step, as if the announcement was a physical blow she tried to recoil away from.

"Dear Lord," Giles breathed; not so much shock as sheer weariness coating his voice.

"How many?" It was Jenny who broke the silence next, eyes sad and tired as she looked to Oz.

"About three or four I'd say," he said, mind flickering over the scene again in fresh analysis.

Her eyes widened briefly, before she gave a small nod in grim acceptance. Her gaze was torn between him and Annie; face full of pained sympathy.

Oz leant back against the wall, addressing no-one in particular. "I think it was the clean up crew that we intercepted"

"What?!" Mike stumbled and swayed as he pushed himself off the sofa, his voice incredulous. His face was flushing with fresh anger and he looked very much like he wanted to go another round with the vampires that had nearly broken his bones.

Jenny rushed forward as his legs buckled and firmly eased him back down, against his protests. "Michael!" she scolded, exasperated. "I said the potion would help with the healing but it's no substitute for rest – which is what you need."

Mike grumbled but quietened at a sharp glare from the teacher. A hesitating voice spoke up quietly.

"Um, not to sound too much like the clueless new kid, but I kinda think I missed the - explanation - part here?"

Oz looked back to see Willow eying them all with nervous curiosity, a faint frown between her brows as she tried to follow the conversation. _She didn't know._ Of course, why would she? She had never been here to see the town disintegrate into a living nightmare like the rest of them. For a moment, he deeply envied her and the better world she claimed to have come from. What were things like for them there? What would it be like to live in a reality without all this? He couldn't bear to see the innocent confusion in her eyes; the innocence they were stealing from her every second she stayed in this world. Why would she ever wish to remain here?

He dropped his gaze in avoidance; he really didn't want to elaborate on the depressing topic, however obligated he felt. Thankfully Jenny, ever the composed co-ordinator, took up the task a few moments later.

"It's...We've been seeing this pattern spring up over the last few months," she explained slowly, voice gentle and calm, just as a doctor would break bad news to a patient. "They target small groups and snatch them together – friends, family – and imprison them all in a secure place. They don't kill them; not right away. We believe what they do is pick out a select few -- to turn" Jenny paused to take a breath, but the wide-eyed horror on Willow's face told her she had already filled in the blanks for herself. The teacher shook her head, her expression one of mingled apology and disgust. "It's a particularly cruel practice in barbarity."

"It's sick," Mike interrupted in a cold voice. "Twisted. They lock them up, helpless and terrified – waiting for the inevitable; but that's not enough. They drag one friend away, one daughter or brother, and make them like them." His eyes were staring straight ahead, as if he could see the whole perverse performance playing out in front of him with each word. "Throw their dead bodies back in with their families and then just wait." He finally looked over and caught Willow's eyes. He swallowed hard, but she had to know. "Wait for them -- to wake up"

Willow trembled and turned her head away. She could feel the shocked tears building behind her eyes and she quickly shut them. Mike was right. It was sick. It was carefully devised torture of the worst kind. Her mind jumped backwards into dark memories and she realised just how worthy this tactic was of the Angelus who had tortured them last year. Of the plans he'd had for all of them; for Buffy…Willow quickly opened her eyes and remembered where she was.

And they…they had seen it. Her gaze slid to Oz but he wasn't meeting anyone's eye. His whole body perfectly still and face carefully blank; a beautiful but cold statue. Every natural instinct in her was shouting and begging to go to him; to reach through his façade in the way only she had ever been able to, let him grieve in her arms and make the world shine again for him. But she couldn't. It wasn't her place, not anymore. She didn't know him like she once did; she didn't know how he would react. This reality had changed things, changed everyone; there was a darkness and anger there now. She feared making it worse. The tears crawled up her throat and she drew her eyes back to the icepack she still held to her skin, clutched under numb fingers.

"But -- why?" She wasn't even aware the whisper had left her lips until she heard Mike give a humourless bark of laughter from the sofa. He quickly winced as he strained all the wrong muscles and spoke through clenched teeth.

"Because they can. Because they want to prove there's nothing they can't do and there's nothing we can do to stop them."

Jenny frowned sadly at the kids, hating to hear the bitter and bleak cynicism that had taken over their lives. "Well, judging from what we know about the Master, I would say that these nests must also provide some practical benefit to him. I imagine he sees it as an –- initiation of some kind; baptisms by fire, so to speak. When vampires first wake, they can be disorientated and vulnerable to attack. By enclosing them with - easy prey…" There was a shaky sigh from the steps and Jenny looked over in concern, before quickly moving on. "They ensure they learn to fight and feed right away, driving away the last traces and memory of their human lives in the same swipe. The Master is moulding the nature of his followers, making them into soldiers. By capturing their savagery from the moment of birth, turning them against those once closest to them and making sure they have the strength to survive, he succeeds in cementing their loyalty to him. It's to prove their mettle; wipe away any lingering weakness."

Oz was barely listening. It was nothing he didn't know already. He'd known it from the moment he saw the destruction in that room; only newborn vampires tended to be that messy and careless. It was a horrific way to die; torn apart by one who had been by your side a few hours ago, someone you were powerless to save and helpless to stop. He didn't want to imagine what they went through; ripped away from the ones they loved, leaving them defenceless and distraught until they were returned. Killed and changed only to be let loose back into their midst to slaughter the weaker creatures at will. Like a cat amongst the pigeons. _Like a wolf amongst the lambs._ Oz mentally grimaced at the unwanted voice that slipped through his thoughts.

"There has to be something we can do. We have to stop them." Willow was trying hard to shake off her shock; familiar determination settling over her features. The kind that came from love of a life as a Slayerette and some that was just pure, stubborn Willow.

"Hey, if you have any genius, bright ideas -- be our guest" Mike muttered sarcastically, slumping back on the sofa. Oz cast a low frown in his friend's direction as Willow retreated into subdued and thoughtful silence.

"I think I'll make us all something to drink," a weary Jenny announced quietly, heading back into the kitchen. "It's been quite a night."

"I need to get out of here." Annie stood up stiffly and came down off the staircase, aiming for the front door. Eyes flickered in her direction but no-one attempted to stop the young woman as she let herself out of the house.

Giles leaned against the mantle over the fire, suddenly tired. More than tired, he felt exhausted. Done in; beaten. He'd had barely five hours sleep the night before and less than four the night before that. He knew he was running on an empty tank but there was too much to be done; yet no matter how much he did, they never seemed to get any further. The bad news kept on coming, wave upon wave, and he suddenly felt flattened by it all. "I should never have sent you there," he muttered abruptly.

Willow looked up, shocked at the bitter guilt in his voice. "Giles, you weren't to know. Besides, we all got out. We're fine – see?"

"Yeah, well I mean -- I've had worse," Mike said ruefully as he eyed the Watcher with light scrutiny. "We were bound to stumble across one of those places again sooner or later anyway. It wouldn't have made much of a difference, and it was better we found out now, really."

But Giles shook his head, deaf to their assurances. He rubbed his fingers against his temple, warding off the headache that was beginning to thump behind his eyes. His worn face was creased with tight lines of the same blame and regret which lay so heavy across his heart. "How can you say that? You could've been killed tonight on that stupid assignment!"

"We could be killed _every _night!" Mike retorted loudly. "Whether we go or not! And personally, I'd rather go down at least_ trying_ to fight back!"

Willow stared at Giles. She'd never heard the Watcher sound so defeated; like he was on the verge of giving up, surrendering to the inevitable. He couldn't give up! That was so – so _un-_Giles! Giles didn't give in, didn't let them stop fighting to make the world a better place. He had dedicated his whole life to stopping the spread of evil, to helping people, he was their guardian and teacher – he kept them right. He was supposed to be steady and sure -- to be the adult, to make the calls no-one else could and have the knowledge that would always let them save the day. He always helped them, always knew what to do. He worried and he fussed and he sighed in exasperation – but he didn't quit! They needed him to be there. _She_ needed him! She needed him to still be the Giles she knew so well. Willow felt the panic burn and choke in her chest. She couldn't do this alone!

"We're fools. I'm so sorry," he murmured tiredly. Anger that rarely broke the surface, rose up through him suddenly. All the anger and frustration he felt over his own reckless failures that continually back-lashed against these young kids. Against those who put themselves out there on the front lines of a nightly war, all for the misplaced trust they had in his dubious leadership and supposed wisdom. How could he allow them to take all the risk and danger while he sat at home? And doing what? Reading! Futile research? Huddled away with his books - hiding!

Turning his back on their incredulous stares, he plucked off his glasses and rubbed his eyes harshly. He was disgusted with himself. What good was he in this war? He was a crumbling old man, a faded shadow of a Watcher without a Slayer, sending _children_ out to risk their lives! Stuck in his comforting mounds of musty books, thinking he would find the answer to saving the world in the encrypted pages of a thousand year old tome, while people continued to suffer and die every day for his incompetence. He reluctantly pushed his glasses back on and blinked at the messy towers of literature which lay stacked across his floor, that he and Jenny had been working through not an hour before. He had never felt such a strong desire to kick the cowardly, safe books over and send them crashing to the ground. He felt so helpless.

"Giles don't talk like that!" Willow ordered desperately, getting to her feet. "It's not your fault – none of it is! We fight because we want to help! Yeah, we get hurt but it's the right thing to do -- and you know that!" Frustrated when she got no response, she looked around for more back up and suddenly noticed that Oz had disappeared.

Jenny returned to the room just then and Willow immediately made a bee-line for her.

"What's going on?"

"Giles is having a crisis of faith," Mike answered without much humour.

Willow clutched her arm in a silent plead, already knowing that the young teacher would get through to the depressed Watcher better than any of them. Jenny's gaze softly probed his stiff form by the window, the corners of her mouth turned down slightly in concern.

"Rupert?"

Giles's shoulders seemed to relax a little at her soothing voice, and he finally looked up as she crossed to his side. She stroked her hand lightly down his arm, a small frown on her face as she studied his eyes. "Tell me," she whispered softly.

Giles held her knowing gaze for a moment before he ducked his head with a deep sigh, bringing their faces closer together. He closed his eyes, lips moving quietly in hushed tones as Jenny listened. She nodded slowly, raising her hand to brush at his untidy hair in such a tender gesture that Willow suddenly felt uncomfortable being so close. Picking up Mike's empty mug, she hastily removed herself to the kitchen, where she began the awkward task of doing the washing up, one-handed. Poor Mike, being confined to the sofa, became very interested in Giles's tattered throw that covered the back of the couch. Fortunately, it was only a few moments before both adults moved through to Giles's study to talk more privately.

"Way to run and hide, Willow!" Mike complained indignantly, throwing a small cushion towards the kitchen counter behind him. "So much for no man left behind!"

A giggle was all he got in reply, quickly followed by a handful of soapsuds thrown in his general direction.

o0o

The night air was warm and sultry on her face as Annie stepped outside into the small courtyard. The light rainfall earlier hadn't done enough to break the weather and the so-called experts on TV were still predicting a thunderstorm was heading their way. She stuck her hands into the pockets of her old leather jacket and closed her eyes, hanging onto the quiet stillness like it held the key to her sanity.

Her fingers brushed a lumpy shape through the lining. Pulling open her jacket, Annie felt around in the inner pocket and pulled out a crushed packet of Marlboros. She smirked wryly. It must have been quite some time since she had last worn this jacket. Her fingers played with the half open, crumpled packet out of ingrained habit as she debated. The debate lasted about ten seconds. _Screw it,_ she decided vehemently. Hell knew the calming night and fresh air weren't doing jack shit for her nerves, may as well try some good old soothing poison. Further digging uncovered a fluorescent green lighter with a few drops of fuel left, and seconds later the old cigarette flared into life under her practiced fingers. Annie breathed in deeply and nearly coughed as the familiar acrid smoke rushed into her lungs. It had been a while. She watched the subsequent tainted gray cloud escape her lips and swirl into the black air with detached interest. If only it were as easy to expel all the thoughts and memories from her body.

"Thought you'd quit."

Annie's mouth lifted in a bitter smile. "Hey, if _these_ things are what kill me, I'll count myself one of the lucky ones."

There was no answer to that so she figured he was doing his silent waiting thing. Well tough, she didn't feel like talking and she didn't ask him to follow her out here. She rolled her eyes and brought the cigarette to her lips for another pull, holding the smoke inside till it almost hurt. Couldn't she even enjoy her petty vices in peace?

After another minute of silence, she finally cracked. "Oh, why don't you just give me the little lecture already?!" She turned around and found his acute gaze firmly fixed on her, brows slightly knitted on his otherwise stoic face. He had shed his jacket and stood with his arms crossed over his chest and back pressed against the shadowy wall, eyes sharp and unwavering. She hadn't even heard him join her.

He lifted his shoulders in an almost shrug. "You already know it. What's the point?"

Annie grit her teeth; she didn't appreciate being spoken to like a disobedient child. "This is just because I didn't listen to you isn't it?" An edge of mockery crept into her voice, anything to goad him into a reaction. His eyes hardened but he didn't rise to the bait. She was trying to push him, lashing out, and they both knew it. With a scowl, Annie flicked ash to the ground with a little too much force.

"No," he answered calmly. "This is about you charging off, Lone Ranger style, and putting us all in danger."

"You didn't have to follow me, Oz!"

He met her fiery glare with a cool gaze, but didn't interrupt.

"And excuse me for remembering the big picture! What we are _trying_ to do. For actually having the guts to go in and find out! For wanting to stop them! _Someone _has to!"

Oz shook his head. "That's not fair."

Ignoring the low reprimand, she turned her back on him and strode across the courtyard. She dropped down into a metal, patio chair and tilted her head up, exhaling slowly into the night sky. The sky that was a vast, blank darkness yet all she could see was red; only lifeless red -- everywhere. She closed her eyes tightly and shivered in the warm air. "Besides, what did it matter anyway? We were too late." She fingered the small crucifix at her neck, her jaw tight, staring at nothing. "I'm always too fucking late," she muttered harshly.

"Annie…" Oz levered off the wall and crossed over to her. He didn't push any further; only sat down on the fountain wall, leaned forward on his elbows and waited patiently.

After a moment, she straightened up and slouched back in the seat. "Other than that pretty little surprise, there was nothing of threat in that dump. So if you want me to apologise for taking the initiative that was needed - don't hold your breath."

Oz frowned at the defiant woman in front of him. "Mike and Willow were hurt," he reminded her slowly; somehow managing to make the simple statement more poignant than any length of articulated speech. Annie dropped her gaze, a grimace of guilt crossing her face before she stood up and stepped away.

"I suppose you're going to make that my fault too?" She accused irritably, closing her arms tight around her chest as if she were trying to keep warm in the humid night.

"I'm not, but you have to stop being so reckless. This isn't just about you."

Annie glanced over sharply at the tone of his voice. His eyes were cool and piecing, like cut green glass; the line of his jaw was tense and every feature of his striking face was hardened in a way she rarely saw from him. He was angry. It was subtle but it was definitely there.

"If anything had happened to them--"

Annie laughed in a short, low chuckle, as if she had just got the punch line to a private joke. "Of course. How could I be so thoughtless? How could I forget about your _precious_ Willow." She fixed her eyes on his impassive expression stubbornly. "That's what this is _really_ about."

Tense silence flickered between them for a heartbeat before Oz lowered his head in small, tired shake. "Don't do that. You know damn well we shouldn't have left them there. That's all I'm saying."

"Like hell!" she scoffed. She turned her shoulder and brought the burning cigarette to her lips jerkily, inhaling quickly before hissing it out through her teeth, but she found the familiar kick was distinctly lacking.

She sighed quietly, her voice dropping. "I don't get it." Oz looked up as she turned back around, confused distress joining the accusation on her face. "Why do you trust her? You, Mike -- all of you!" She shot a glare at the closed front door across the courtyard. "Why is everyone so willing to accept her at her word without any explanations? Why is that? Where is all this blind faith coming from? How can you think you know anything about who she really is?"

Annie watched him frown lightly, though she was unsure whether it was directed at her or his own thoughts. "She hasn't given us any reason not to trust her," he reasoned.

"No, she only just mysteriously shows up on our doorstep, somehow after her evil bitch of a doppelganger here bites the dust, and conveniently worms her way into our lives. Doesn't it strike you as a little off? Don't you have doubts?" Annie pushed on firmly, stepping closer, trying to get him to meet her eye. Surely he had to see why she was so concerned? Why this was so dangerous. She wouldn't let this strange and secretive girl break the only people she had left in her life.

"It isn't right." Her gaze was almost apologetic but her words remained hard. "She doesn't belong here, Oz."

The boy gave an unnoticeable wince and leaned over his knees, his back stiff and eyes unseeing as they stared out across the tiled yard. There was long pause before he admitted softly, "I know."

Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance, no doubt heading for fresh bloodshed. Annie looked up, a humourless smile on her lips. "And the fun goes on," she murmured.

Oz rose smoothly from the low wall. He looked to her. "You going or staying?"

Annie glanced back at Giles's door, a sour expression on her face. "No thanks."

Oz caught the underlying distrust in her tone and frustration edged into his voice. "We can't condemn her for things we don't even know. Even you have to admit that all she's done so far is try to help us."

Annie pulled the cigarette from her lips with mild distaste. It didn't feel as good as she had remembered. Her fingers trembled slightly as she rolled the stub between her knuckles. "Yeah well, you can't always trust the people you want to." Without raising her eyes, she flicked the glowing stick to the ground roughly and crushed it out under her boot. Apparently she'd lost her appetite for the old habit. She flashed a grim smile. She didn't have much of an appetite for anything nowadays.

"I'm out of here." Without any more of a farewell, she turned away and disappeared up the steps, leaving Oz to sigh to himself before heading back into the apartment alone.

o0o

The Bronze was in full swing, the party spilling out the doors and onto the street. Laughter and drunken boasts added to the ruckus that filled the night, along with the luscious scent of fresh blood and terrified screams, but she was in no mood to take part in the festivities right now. Shoving her way past a staggering group of intoxicated young vamps, she carved a path through the heaving dance floor and hanging cages. One brash boy lifted his head from a half drained student as she approached; his glowing eyes raking up and down her appealing body in leering approval. She snapped her head towards her unwanted admirer to see him smile suggestively, and an impatient snarl ripped past her lips. Her eyes flashed warningly and the vamp quickly lowered his head in submission. Tossing her hair and suppressing another grimace, she strode on towards the private back rooms.

"What the hell happened to you?"

The amused question reached her ears as soon as she entered and she cut her eyes to the familiar boy who had spoken. He had heavily black lined eyes, carefully applied for maximum effect on his unearthly pale face, and a permanent smirk painted on his lips that bore an uncanny and unnerving resemblance to the Cheshire Cat. He was stretched out languidly along the purple couch, feet propped up and ankles crossed on the coffee table, and a dart twirling between his fingers, no doubt originally aimed for the board that was stuck up on the wall opposite. She threw him a disdainful look but he only tilted his head to the side, messy dark hair falling into his eyes teasingly, the grin widening.

She drew herself up and limped with as much dignity as she could to a deep velvet chair in the corner of the lamp lit room. The heavy club music thumped through the walls in a throbbing beat. She let out a hiss as she pulled her heeled boot off and dropped it to the ground. Across the floor, her companion's eyes darkened, slouched posture stiffening, as the scent of blood hit the air. "Take it tonight didn't go as we'd anticipated?" he inquired curiously.

"You could say that," she replied coolly, pulling open the drawer of the cabinet beside her to retrieve something to wrap her foot in.

"Ran into our moody little friends did we?" The smirk was back as she glowered in response. "My, my," he mused with mock thoughtfulness. "You gotta give them points for persistence I suppose. They make life interesting."

"They're a pathetic nuisance. We should have finished them off a long time ago."

He smiled slyly. "Bitter much?"

With a cocky grin, he glanced back to the board to the side of her head and flicked his wrist, sending the remaining dart sailing through the air. But before it could reach its target, a sharp hand snatched out and plucked the arrow from its flight in the blink of an eye. He raised his eyebrows lazily at her fuming face.

"I swear, Damien—"

The threat was interrupted however by a deep, warning voice.

"Temper temper, children."

With a final glare at his taunting face, she dropped her hand and tossed the dart into her empty seat. She inclined her head slightly at the man that had joined them, who nodded once in reply as he readjusted his tie and rolled back down his shirt sleeves, which had stayed spotless throughout his evening meal.

"You're back." He glanced around the room, confirming that she had returned alone. "The boys?" he inquired in vaguely curious voice.

The young woman snorted and rolled her eyes. "Useless."

"I see," he said with disinterest.

"Don't mind Becca," Damien drawled as he picked himself off the sofa, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "She's just sore that for once, she got her ass kicked."

She felt her eye twitch in annoyance. "Bite me," she snarled.

Damien gave a wicked grin and paused to let his mouth brush close against the back of her neck as he slipped past her. "With pleasure."

Clenching her fists to stop herself spinning around and clawing his eyes out, it took several deep breaths before she could carry on and say what she wanted. Snapping her attention back to the man who was currently ignoring the two younger vampires with complete disregard, she stepped forward.

"I need to see him"

That caught his attention again. "Why?"

She let herself indulge in a wry smile. "I found out something I think he'll be very interested in."

He looked at her for a long moment but didn't question any further. With a jerk of his head, he indicated to the corridor behind him.

o0o

Becca had been in his presence many times; indeed she might almost think that he was somewhat fond of her. But that didn't stop the shiver of nervous excitement that came when she stood before him. His imposing form was turned towards the wall, head bent over something in his hands, when she stepped inside the dark and intimidating room that served as his lair ever since he had returned to the surface, in the greatest victory for their kind in centuries. She waited respectfully until he acknowledged her presence, knowing that it was more than her life was worth to interrupt -- as many others had discovered to their cost. The Master was not indulgent of mistakes.

"Rebecca."

She almost jumped when he announced her name in a low, silky voice. With a slow movement, he closed the book in his hands and turned to face her. Red, soulless eyes locked onto her face and she quickly bowed her head. "Master."

"I did not expect you back so soon."

"No, we -- had an unforeseen interruption," she grimaced apologetically. There was silence and she didn't dare raise her head until she heard a quiet sigh. When she chanced a look up, the aged and revered vampire lord had seated himself in the great chair in the corner of the room and was running spidery fingers over the book cover that rested on the arm.

"Those troublemakers are so tiresome."

"Yes," she agreed as she took a cautious step forward. "But -- it seems that they have managed to produce quite a surprising twist."

His head turned in her direction and she swallowed dryly. If her heart were beating it would be thundering in her chest. He steepled his long fingers together and leaned forward as he regarded her with cool curiosity. "Explain."

A small smile crept across her face, encouraged by the genuine interest in his stare. As far as revelations went, she had a hell of an ace to play here. Even for Sunnydale, this was pretty damn weird.

She shook her head slightly as if she still couldn't quite believe what she was about to tell him. The smirk crept up her lips.

"You're gonna love this."

o0o

* * *

**AN** I worked non-stop to get this chapter out - so please review! Feedback is the only way I have of knowing if people are genuinely still interested in this story. Everything I receive from readers is appreciated so much :) Thanks!


	21. Chapter Nineteen

Thank you to all my reviewers and everyone who has alerted so far :) Also, thanks to Aspiring Mythmaker and huge special mention to Dark Winter for all their awesome beta help.

Without further ado, hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

Buffy scowled up at the dark coated figure that stood over her, making it very clear his timely intervention was not appreciated. Roughly knocking aside the offered hand, she arched her body and jumped back to her feet. "What are you doing here?" she snapped, brushing the fresh dust from her clothes with irritable swipes.

"I'm worried about you."

With a glare she turned on her heel to stride away along the darkened street. It wasn't long before she felt his presence at her shoulder again as he kept pace easily beside her; much to her annoyance.

"The last thing I need is an overbearing bodyguard. Bit of a waste of your time I'd say. I can take care of myself."

"Except you're not."

She didn't reply. He sighed wearily, all too used to this response by now. "What are you doing, Buffy?"

She almost chuckled, but the slight smile was mocking and without any of the warmth she so usually embodied. "My job," she said curtly. "One girl, sacred duty -- did you skip the prologue?"

He glanced over at her tense profile; features locked in an empty expression that refused to give an inch for anyone, even him. "I'll cover patrol, you know that. For as long as you need it."

She shook her head sharply. "I can do this."

"Buffy—"

"Angel," she cut him off, finally turning to face him. "I _have_ to do this."

The tremor of desperation in her voice was enough to stop his gentle argument. She broke contact after a long second and he followed her lead, ending the battle of wills for now. Buffy could be particularly stubborn at the worst of times and he'd learnt a long time ago - it was about picking your moments.

Falling into a mutual quiet, they continued on through the labyrinth of empty alleys that would eventually bring them out at the shipping docks, a favourite haunt for the local blood-thirsty population. The night time isolation suited the demons that generally hung around along the deserted waterfront, crashing in the convenient storage sheds where light couldn't easily penetrate; where no-one could hear the cries.

The exception to this rule cast a side glance at the stony faced girl walking quickly next to him. She was silent, her eyes slightly glazed as she stared ahead, her movements on autopilot. It had been weeks, and she was getting worse. He knew - they all knew - that she was pushing herself dangerously hard.

Her increasing distance had caused concern in more than one sector. Angel already knew that Buffy was not dealing well, or at all, with the devastating turn of events, but when her mother actually turns to _him_ for help--well, it was definitely not a good sign. He knew there was going to be a pretty damn important reason, and one he probably wasn't going to like. He was not exactly her favourite choice of person. Quite understandably, considering the last impression he'd made was as sadistic demon that was terrorizing her daughter. He was surprised she could stand to look him in the eye, he thought darkly. If she knew the full extent of what he'd done to Buffy…

Of course, Joyce didn't really understand what had happened - none of them were prepared to talk about it - but it was painfully clear whose absence was at the root of it all.

No-one knew what had happened to the missing, bright Sunnydale student in the rest of the town. Hell, they weren't even sure themselves. They had no constructive ideas about what she had delved into and, as much as it pained him to admit it, he knew there was only a slim chance she was still alive from what Giles had told them. Throughout his entire soulless history of immortal death, hedonistic pleasures and twisted cruelty, in which he had crossed paths with many beings of magic and sorcery, Angel had never heard of anyone pulling off this kind of bargaining magic successfully. The line deepened in his forehead as the memory drifted back. It had been the very first question from her lips that desolate morning. Her posture stiff and words blunt, even as her face betrayed the simmering panic she struggled to hide from them. She wasn't asking for sympathy or looking to share mutual sadness; she was demanding help. She was prepared to do whatever it took but she needed to know more about what she was dealing with. That was how Buffy worked. She needed only to set a foot in the right direction, and then she would proceed to rip down every obstacle that stood between them and getting Willow back.

And every day since -- the vampire had wished he'd lied. That he'd said something, anything, to have kept that fragile spark alive in her determined eyes. Which was crueller? He honestly couldn't say. Of course, it was also true that those few souls who'd had the power and desire to attempt such rare spells, were consumed by less than noble intentions in his experience. How the so-called powers of fate would react to a pure heart and sacrifice, Angel wasn't so sure. If there was a shadow of a hope for anyone in this impossible situation, it would surely be for their loving and absurdly smart witch.

As far as anyone else knew, Willow Rosenberg had simply vanished. The speculation was rampant. His mouth curled in distaste. A troubled runaway, many said. Break up gone bad or even a secret elopement. And in the thick of the insatiable gossip vines, crawled rumours of betrayal and heartbroken suicide. He knew how she blocked it all out. Nothing seemed to really reach any of them, he reflected sadly. It was like they were too far gone to acknowledge the world outside their own personal grief. He suspected it was the lack of answers, the not knowing, that was torturing them all the worst. With no real certainty to grieve or fight for, they remained locked in limbo.

She barely slept or ate anymore. Instead throwing herself into patrolling with a frenzied obsession that never left her satisfied; the consuming focus spurring her on where her energy should have failed. Angel could only watch as the spunky girl he loved had slowly turned into a stranger from him. Her skin looked unhealthy and pale compared to the deep shadows under her eyes; black bruises that only kept darkening as they steadily drained her once glowing face of all its lustre. He had been shouldering more of the Hellmouth responsibilities in an effort to give her space to breath, time to deal; but she only seemed to resent the effort, scorning every good intention like it were a personal insult.

She had avoided him even more than the others. Never seeking him out and quick to leave whenever they did meet, preferring only the company of the demons she continued to drive mercilessly into oblivion. She didn't want to talk, to hear what he had to say. She refused to listen to devastating reason and logic, to empty reassurances and promises. She wouldn't let herself accept his comfort, his wise but defeated words.

That meant finally admitting it was all real.

Buffy was ruthlessly practical and realistic when it came to fighting evil and saving the earth from Hell's greedy fingers; but the complete disintegration of her personal world was something even the Slayer wasn't strong enough to handle. And it wasn't the first time either. Angel winced as familiar guilt riled his thoughts. Now another integral part of her life was lost and she had managed to find a way to blame herself – again.

This was somewhat unfamiliar territory for them. It sounded odd, given all they had done, but this was very different. For once, there was no course of action to take, no way to undo what had been done. This was a problem they couldn't seem to fix and it was yet unclear whether they could learn to live with the consequences. The frustration was almost tangible. They'd had no warning, no chance to make things right. One clean slice had cut Willow from their lives – perhaps forever. And there was nothing they could do. No physical evil to blame and fight; no mystical redo button; no hopeful, happy ending to cling to. Only a critical choice made by someone they loved. One that had damaged all their souls just that bit more.

And it broke his dead heart to watch the girl he loved, determinedly and stubbornly suffer alone. For one of the rare times in their relationship, he could see how truly young she still was. Behind her sharp mind, under all the humour and sarcasm, graceful strength and selfless courage, crushing duty and responsibility -- Buffy was still a teenage girl. Someone with deep and dependent ties to the people in her life. A young woman teetering on the brink of an uncertain adulthood and fighting to come to terms with her own identity. She was still very human. And just as breakable.

He sighed. Of course there was no use confronting her about any of this. No-one was harder on Buffy than herself and she would do things her way as she always did, in her own sweet time and not a minute sooner. Yet he would wait. He would be there when she needed him, whatever it took. He was a patient immortal.

So he kept a respectful distance, silently watching out for her even though she wouldn't let him. And it looked like he was right to. Angel frowned lightly in his thoughts. An inexperienced vamp like that should never have been able to get the jump on Buffy. She was unfocused. Barely there. And that was mortally dangerous for a Slayer.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Angel cleared his throat carefully. "How's Xander?"

Buffy faltered in her steps before regaining her perfect balance. Distracted eyes turned to him with a dull gaze. For a moment, he didn't think she would even answer him.

"He's..."

She trailed off, no words left to describe her shattered friend. The only one who felt her absence even more than Buffy. Gritting her teeth she turned away and walked on. It hurt too much to think of Xander. It hurt to think full stop.

So Buffy clung to her calling with a tenacious death grip; the simple single purpose the only thing keeping her sane in the chaotic free-fall that was her personal life. She couldn't break down, she couldn't afford to. She still had a 'sacred duty' to fulfil and that would never change. Could Slayers even take personal days? Have compassionate leave? Disturbing mental episodes? She smirked darkly to herself. On the other hand, smashing demons' heads to gore was doing more to keep her sanity together these days than any amount of therapy or health retreats ever could. Did it really matter if her heart wasn't really in it? After all, Hell's armies wouldn't wait for her to grieve and she had people to protect…people she was _supposed_ to protect…

Her whole body tensed sharply, hands clenching at her sides to prevent her from punching a sizable hole in the parked car they were passing. She couldn't think of that. She forced her mind to go blank.

Yet it was more than hopeless resolution that kept her on this lonely path. It was fear. Mind numbing, heart cracking fear. If she stopped to let it in, Buffy was terrified she would never come back out.

It seemed strange that the world carried on - Willowless - when theirs had been thrown so terribly off-kilter. But there was something more. Buffy couldn't shake a tricky sense that this was all wrong; that things weren't intended to happen this way. That somehow the state of play had changed in a game they weren't even aware they were a part of.

The silence was dense and awkward but neither was prepared to back down, so the couple came to an impasse; side by side but not together. The smell of salty water drifted in on the air as they came to a chain link fence at the side of a grubby, boarded up building that looked like it might have once housed the Customs Office. Barely breaking stride Buffy quickly scaled up the metal barricade, fingers and toes finding easy purchase with an eerie grace, and jumped down on the other side. Angel watched her for a second before following suit. She hesitated beyond the wire for the briefest of moments. Not until he was preparing to drop to the ground, did she turn to carry on. He allowed himself a tired, hidden smile. Could that be viewed as progress?

Her steps slowed a fraction as he caught up to her but she made no other sign of acknowledgment. Angel had never felt the cold once in well over two hundred years -- but he felt it now. It burned him in the absence of Buffy's warmth, which he had grown to crave almost as much as blood.

The night swallowed them up again simultaneously. Angel's face etched with concern as he debated over fresh approaches to break her out of this destructive pattern; Buffy itching for a fight.

Buffy got her wish answered first.

o0o

"I'm still hungry."

"You're always hungry."

"Yeah well, I think that dumbass jock was popping steroids or something," the jerky vampire complained, spitting out the unpleasant aftertaste.

"Jeez Ed, you really need to get over your high school rejection issues before you single-handedly ruin _any_ chance this town has of winning a championship."

Ed rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth and paused in his pacing long enough to scowl at the young man who had spoken. But the lounging vampire only ran a vain hand through his sleek ebony hair, smirking.

"Yeah," piped up an impatient voice from behind him as another dark form strolled back over from the waterfront. "Why don't you go after the Cheerleaders or something for a change? Variety, man."

"For once, I'd have to agree with Jake," a smooth tone cut in as the final prowling figure jumped down next to them. "Sugar and spice and all things nice," he mused dreamily, eyes glinting in pleasurable memories. "Of course, I'm biased. But still, think about it. All that firm, nubile flesh and peppy blood…" Kyle's mouth lifted in a grin. "Besides, I'm sure they gave you plenty of rejection back in the day too. Share the joy."

If looks could kill, the tall and smug vampire would have been impaled on the one Ed sent his way. "Were you always this obnoxious?" he grumbled, slumping down onto a cargo crate and crossing his arms.

There was a low chuckle to his left, where the young vampire's sire had straightened up from his reclined position and was twirling a silver lighter between his fingers. He cast an amused look in his friend's direction. "Yeah, pretty much." There was a lazy click and a tall flame shot up from the gadget he was forever playing with.

Jake grimaced, edging away from the jumping flame that was sparking a little too close to his skin for comfort. "Hey, wanna be careful where you wave that thing?"

"Aw, afraid of a little, ikle fire are we?" Dean scoffed with a cruel grin, making Jake hiss as he flicked the flaming lighter in his direction playfully.

"Yeah, well, you haven't ever escaped incineration by the skin of your teeth!"

The handsome vampire rolled his eyes, lighting up the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. "Even if I did, at least I'd have the balls not to _whine_ about it all the time."

Jake narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth in what was likely to be cutting retort. But unfortunately they never got to appreciate it, as in the next second his eyes shot wide and he hunched over with a surprised grunt. His immortal body exploded into harmless dust before they even registered the blow.

_"Shit!" _Ed jumped, limbs flailing, and promptly fell backwards off the crate.

A small hand jerked back from the empty air that had once been Jake's body; shadows scattered and a stake flashed in the dark as the remaining vamps attempted to regroup. A roundhouse kick suddenly smashed across Dean's face, knocking the still burning cigarette from his mouth and painfully flooring him. Ed lunged blindly at their attacker, but he wasn't fast enough for this particular foe.

"See, I'm having a really crappy night…" a sweet voice remarked as she smacked Ed's head into a shed door. Straightening up, she smiled playfully at the recovering vampires. "Wanna make it better?"

Dean glared at the girl's casual stance as she eyed them all dismissively. "_Slayer,_" he spat, pulling himself to his feet and wiping the blood from his mouth where her foot had connected with his jaw.

"The one, the only, blah-blah-blah. Well, not anymore I suppose but why split hairs?" She shrugged. "And you are? Oh wait -- I don't care." She spun the stake lazily in her palm, a dark grin playing on her lips. "But hey, pleased to stake your acquaintance."

Kyle grimaced. "Oh please, that was lame even for you."

"Hey, give me a break! I haven't been up to full punning powers recently!"

A gleam cut through Dean's eyes that made Buffy's cool smile falter for a second. "Oh yeah?" He tilted his head in a mocking gesture of sympathy. "Rough few weeks, huh?"

The atmosphere shifted subtlety, but they all felt it. Angel glanced over to Buffy and saw the faint frown on her brow, the hesitation in her body. She was trying to mask it but the sudden imbalance had unnerved her.

"News travels fast, Slayer."

That was a toe too far over the thin line of Buffy's patience. To have her life - her friends' lives - the subject of mindless gossip in the town was one thing, but she wouldn't stand here and let scum like this draw pleasure from their tragic fate. They couldn't play with Willow's memory.

Her eyes flashed in anger, knuckles white as she jerked the stake up to her shoulder in preparation to strike.

The arrogant grin didn't waver. No flicker of apprehension or worry clouded his face at the petite girl's battle stance; only a twisted pride that snaked along his lips, demonic eyes almost glowing with gleeful anticipation.

"We've been curious. Tell me…" His gaze locked into Buffy's like they were the only two beings of consequence in the world. He smiled slowly. "How'd your little witch like her present?"

~o~

Buffy couldn't feel anything. Arms, legs…anything.

It was as if all the stuff that made up her essence had been knocked cold out of her. Only an empty vessel remained, staring wide eyed at the grinning, soulless demon that had just smashed her world so carelessly. Her arm lowered slowly to her side, poised stake apparently forgotten.

"You killed Oz."

It wasn't a question and it wasn't an accusation. It was simply a fact. Angel's eyes were narrowed dangerously, a barely audible snarl rumbling through the controlled words.

"Was that his name?" Kyle raised his eyebrows in vindictive curiosity. "We didn't exchange a lot of pleasantries."

Angel wanted to move. His fingers itched with the desire to wipe that sick enjoyment from their faces. He could feel the demon shifting under his skin, thirsty for action, but he didn't twitch a muscle. Buffy was too vulnerable right now.

"I've had easier kills that's for sure." Dean's face twisted in revulsion. "Wolf blood." He shuddered and spat at the ground before turning his sneering eyes back to Buffy. "Still, we wanted to do something _special _for you."

Killed. _Killed…_Buffy blinked slowly as the word forced its way through the numb fog and rattled into recognition. Her eyes sharpened as she met his gaze; the revelation rushing at her like a raging bull. She finally had an answer. Not the one she wanted; not the most important one -- but it was still an answer. It was flash of clarity; a glimpse of solid land in the sea of uncertainty she had been adrift in, for what felt like months.

These monsters had _killed_ Oz. They had broken Willow. They were the reason Xander would barely speak to her. Why Giles was crippled by guilt. Why a savage hole had been ripped through their lives, which could never be filled again. They had robbed Buffy of her best friend, her wise and brave confident; stripped her life of those bright giggles and loving babbling. They were why she felt so lost and alone.

In one swipe they had torn away two of her closest friends, and in the worst of ways. _They _were why she was gone!

And all in a sick, perverse game to get to _her_. Because of who she was. Because of a duty she'd never wanted or asked for. Because of Buffy, her friends had to suffer through death, pain and loss, over and over again. She brought it down on their lives. Oz…Willow…Xander…god, even Giles. They were forced to pay for her sins. They would always be the first to be punished; hurt the most…all because of her. Their loyalty and friendship had cost them everything. In what twisted sense of karmic justice was that fair?!

Was she cursed to forever lose the ones closest to her? A bitter scream built in her throat._ Then take it back_! Buffy felt like falling to her knees in a furious, wretched plead to whatever force had seen fit to choose her. Demand them to undo her destiny -- make it someone else's burden. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't keep destroying the people she loved.

No-one would ever be safe as long as she was around. No-one could be happy. The silent, anguished tears burned inside her chest like acid knives. She was poison to everyone she touched.

She would always be alone. Until there was no-one left but her and the vampires. The way it was meant to be, right?

_In the end you're always by yourself. You're all you've got. _

Well fine.

Buffy's eyes hardened into glittering blue ice. If they wanted a pissed off Slayer so badly -- she would give them one.

~o~

The violence erupted so quickly that Angel almost didn't react fast enough. He blocked an attack from the first pouncing vampire and fell back several feet to give himself room, familiar adrenaline quickly taking over.

With an echo of jeering snarls, the other two descended upon Buffy's immobile figure; impatient of gloating and confident in her scattered focus. Blinded by eager hunger and the urge to claim the ultimate glory, no one noticed the dangerous smile at the corner of her lips.

They were just inches from her when she exploded into action.

With a sharp flick of her foot, she kicked up a crowbar from the ground. Snatching it out of mid-air, she pivoted and brought it crashing into the closest vamp's shoulder with blinding force. Just as fast, she twisted and caught the second one with a direct kick to his chest. He staggered back a few steps -- right into Angel's waiting clutches.

In one motion, she flipped the tool over in her palm as the third vampire lunged at her from the left. With a sharp stab, she jammed the savage hook deep into his gut. His body crumpled. A gurgle of pain escaped Ed's shocked lips. Slick gouts of red oozed through Buffy's world, choking her vision.

Her hands flexed yet her face remained impassive as she ruthlessly twisted the weapon in her grip, grinding it into the undead organs with devastating effect. She yanked the hook up through his stomach for good measure before jerking it back out of his body, entrails and all.

By the time she turned away, the next was almost upon her. With a rumbling growl, he reached her before she could bring the blow home. Locking on with his strong hands, he forced the bar back into her chest painfully. Her fingers were slippery on the blood-coated metal and she felt the weapon sliding as they fought. Fiercely determined to regain the upper hand, she whirled around and yanked the crowbar over her head, dragging the cocky vampire after it. He crashed hard into the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Buffy spared him an expressionless glance; a calm phantom navigating a war zone.

Dean's eyes widened and he barely managed to roll out of reach as the gory bar came hurtling down towards his face. Swearing loudly, he sprang to his feet again, quickly putting a safe distance between them. Amber eyes stared into jagged blue. He could see nothing in those icy depths but hate. Cool, perfectly controlled and utterly deadly hate. His Adam's apple bobbed in a nervous swallow. For the first time, he doubted the wisdom of his perfect plan. Goading the Slayer to her breaking point had not had quite the effect he had intended.

A sudden scuffing from behind shifted her focus off Dean, splitting her concentration for only a second, but it was enough. He used the distraction to dodge back into the shadows and form a new plan. A better one.

Turning, a heavy blow landed across Buffy's face, forcing her to the ground. A painful spasm ran along her spine as she twisted onto her back. With a low snarl and fangs bared, a fuming demon lunged in for the kill. Buffy gritted her teeth, swallowed the pain, and kicked up with both feet, catching him square in the chest. Bracing her hands on either side of her head, she smoothly kicked her heels over her head, landing nimbly on her feet.

Metal scraped and she whirled around. A dark object came rushing out of the darkness at her face. Raising her leg in a graceful arch, she managed to deflect the flying crane hook only just in time. Her foot had hardly touched the ground again when a heavily bloodied hand snaked around her neck, jerking her backwards into a sticky, wet torso.

Ed felt the little Slayer writhe in his grip and a smirk flashed through the heavy grimace. Angelus was too busy with Kyle, and Ed's firm hold on his victim's throat kept her quiet. The gaping wound in his stomach was agony and every fresh wave of pain tightened his fingers around her slender throat. But it would heal. She wouldn't.

She wasn't much smaller than him but with a rippling growl, he lifted her off her feet. Her human hands clawed weakly against his vampire arms, her breath coming in harsh gasps as it was slowly choked out of her.

Wriggling just enough to slam her knuckles back into his face, Buffy finally wrenched free. She quickly stumbled to her knees, coughing. She pressed a hand to her crushed windpipe, trying to alleviate the pain -- or at least improve its function. It briefly occurred to her how close that had been. Yet rather than terrifying her, it only stoked the fires of her reckless anger. The scene around her fell away, replaced by positive and negative space. Her targets became grey hazes of activity in her eyes, nameless and faceless. A blur of motion came at her, but her unparalleled reflexes kicked in and she rolled sideways. Leaping to her feet, she heard a familiar snarl thunder close by and knew Angel was deep in the fray with her. She nearly growled at him to keep out. This wasn't his fight!

~o~

Angel blinked hard and refocused, catching the second blow with a sharp twist that threw his opponent off balance. Panting slightly, he managed not to raise his eyebrows. Just. For relatively young vampires, they were proving more of an opposition than he would have liked to admit.

The tall, wiry vampire shrank back, his breath laboured and eyes narrowed. He regarded Angel with something akin to disgusted curiosity. "Pathetic. You fight this hard on behalf of one mangy, flea-bitten _dog_?" His lips curled back. "You've sunk even lower than I'd thought."

Angel didn't bother to respond. His muscles tensed in thick cords; dark eyes carefully assessing every twitch in the younger man's body.

"What's the wolf to you anyway?"

Angel held his gaze unwaveringly. When he did speak, his voice was low and even. "He was a friend."

A jeering smirk slid over the young man's face. However it was violently cut short as a swift fist cracked across his jaw. Angel watched the smile vanish into pain with no small amount of pleasure.

~o~

Raising her arm, she blocked an incoming right hook. With a fluid motion, she dodged inside his guard and caught him in the chest with an open palm. The blow sent Dean hurtling back against a towering shed.

Her chest heaved in shaking breaths. Sensation surrounded her. People were yelling. Things were breaking. Falling. Being hit. The sounds thundered in her ears but made no discernable impact. Meaning was lost to her. Voices and sounds, faces and objects all blurred together into an indistinguishable miasma that fogged her reality. Her vision cleared and her reality narrowed just as she watched the creature before her hiss through gleaming fangs and lunge back at her. All Buffy knew was the fury-soaked power that surged through her muscles, driving her fists forward into the enemy. The crushing impact of bone against bone, fist against flesh. This was what she was. All she would ever be. Black rage poured into the empty vessel her soul had vacated, gushing into the void, filling every part of her. Anger, such as she had never experienced, crashed and boiled inside her hollow heart.

Her opponent charged her again but she caught him by the back of his jacket and threw him head first into the centre of a long shipping crate. Wood splintered everywhere but she didn't release him. With a vicious jerk, she hauled him up through the lid. Wooden shards showered them as the dazed vampire staggered to the ground.

Ducking another blow, she swung her leg around and knocked the vampire off his feet. Turning her head, she saw one of the murdering monsters break out of Angel's headlock and make a grab for one of the larger splinters from the debris field she had just created. Angel quickly closed in on him from behind. Too quickly.

~o~

Kyle spared a smile of relish through his ragged breaths. This was the best scrap he'd had in ages. The little girl wasn't pulling any punches and her pathetic 'boyfriend' did pretty well for bearing the handicap of a human soul. Shame really. He almost pitied the cursed vampire. A legend of his standing shouldn't have to live a neutered existence. The sharp wood rasped against his palm. He flashed a grin. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy the hell out of this. He felt his opponent bearing down on his back. Grasping their mutual kryptonite, he spun around in a dark blur.

His bull's-eye blow was interrupted faster than his eyes could catch. He grunted in pain as a delicate fist shot out and latched onto his arm, wrenching it aside.

Buffy had interposed herself between Angel and his death so fast she felt as if she had flown to him. Frozen eyes drilled into the ridged face before her, his expression twisted in pain and brief surprise, her fingers biting so hard into his skin that fresh blood seeped through his sleeve. Her heart was screaming in her constricted chest, the emotional torrent hidden beneath the hard veneer of her blank features.

_You won't take him too!_ She would die before she lost anyone else to these bastards. She would kill every last one on Earth to protect them. To avenge them.

She distantly acknowledged the shocked fear that flickered across his face, before she slammed her palm up into his chin with a sickening crack. His head snapped back and he staggered away from her. Buffy darted after him, easily parrying the clumsy blow he threw her way. Every fibre in her body seethed and crackled, yet no energy was wasted. Every movement was seamless and disciplined; carefully calculated for maximum damage. Slayers had always understood and calmly executed where others would hesitate and recoil. And for once, Buffy didn't shy away from that darkness within her. She welcomed the insanity. She would make them regret every second they had stolen from her friends.

"Buffy, watch-!"

The warning was lost on her. A heavy blow landed across the back of her head, knocking her to her knees. Blinking aside the dizziness, she twisted and caught the metal pole as it came swinging back at her. With a sharp jerk, she yanked it out of Ed's grip and brought it cracking against the side of his head, knocking him sideways. Angel tackled the injured and snarling vampire, pulling him away from her roughly.

Jumping back to her feet, she pulled the pole more firmly into her grip and tried to catch her breath. Rounding it on her foe, she swung it at his head but just missed as he lithely bent back, letting it power through empty air. Turning flawlessly on her heel she attacked again but he caught it, unexpectedly arresting her movement. She kicked out and hit him hard in the gut and pulled the newly freed weapon back into her control.

Kyle reeled then growled menacingly, charging back towards the cool Slayer. Without a flicker on her stoic features, she ducked under the blow and jabbed forward, driving the rusty bar clean through Kyle's exposed chest. The vamp doubled over with an agonised howl as Buffy forced the metal through splintered ribs and ripped sinews of muscles. Plunging forward with the momentum, she ruthlessly rammed him into the shed wall, pinning him.

Buffy pulled back, smiling coldly through tight lips. She purposely missed the heart. They didn't deserve that kind of mercy. She watched him struggle vainly with a detached satisfaction and overpowering sense of venomous pride. They had no idea what they had done. Destroy the girl and all you're left with is a Slayer. They were going to feel every ounce of pain they had inflicted. She'd make sure of that.

Angel threw Ed off him and took a short, hard breath, glancing around. He quickly found Buffy -- only to watch in horror as she brutally impaled one of their attackers. He winced in reluctant empathy for what was still essentially his kin. A harsh reminder of the calling she had in life. An enemy to his kind. He looked over to her face and was shocked by the jarring coldness etched there. There was no sign of empathy, of hesitation, of conflict. Her whole form seemed detached, devoid of emotion, entirely focused on her victim -- and it chilled him to the depths of his dark soul. Only her actions were animated; infused with a hate, fury and rage that he had never before believed she was capable of. This was torture. This wasn't the Buffy he knew. For a hopeless beat of his unbeating heart, Angel feared he had truly lost her.

Buffy stepped away, gaze still fixed on the squirming body. A distant yell caught her ears and she frowned for split second. There was a rush of air from above. Without even a glance up, she instantly back flipped. Her body arched in a perfect smooth movement, flinging her out of the path of the crate that crashed into the ground where she had just been standing. It spilled its contents everywhere like an open sore as she landed in a half-crouch that was almost feline.

Her eyes darted up the stacks of crates and narrowed on the figure at the top. With an unnerving agility, she sprinted forward and leapt up. Her speed mimicked a mountain lion chasing down its prey, as she sprang from surface to surface, climbing to her target.

~o~

Dean scowled darkly as the small girl spun gracefully out of reach of the carefully toppled crate. This Slayer was proving to be a bloody Road Runner. He spared a brief glance at the pitiful states she had made of his fellows, and felt his own stomach turn violently as he saw her scrambling up to his shadowy ledge. Clenching his jaw and assuming a smug arrogance upon his face, he forced himself to stand his ground. She was still only human after all.

The glint had returned to his eyes when Buffy landed upon the metal surface to find him waiting for her. Silence expanded between them as the two enemies took a moment to assess each other. Buffy straightened up into a deceptively casual stance.

Dean arched a cocky eyebrow. "Having fun yet?"

"Practically giddy."

He chuckled and waved a hand over her body, standing at just the other side of the invisible circle they had marked out. There was an unspoken understanding that once they stepped inside, they would make sure only one came out. A warm breeze flitted through the divide, ruffling the edge of Dean's black jacket; whipping up the blonde tendrils that had escaped Buffy's ponytail.

"Loving this ice bitch routine by the way." The line of her mouth hardened faintly, even as she raised a defiant eyebrow. The arrogant smile widened on his face. "I haven't made you angry have I?"

Buffy ignored the question. "You know, if you hadn't pulled this little stunt, you could have stayed under the radar for a long time. Maybe notched up a few more decades before you finally ticked off the wrong person." She held his stare evenly. "Was it worth it?"

"Hey, the story ain't over, princess."

"No," she agreed quietly. Her chin tilted down, the metallic tint of her eyes flashing in the shadows. "But yours is."

The calm words had barely left her lips, before she launched her tiny, lethal figure at him. A blow cracked across his cheekbone that sent him spinning to the floor of the wide container lid. With a snarl, Dean let his face revert to its true form as he lashed out with his foot at the Slayer's legs.

Buffy jumped, avoiding the sharp kick just in time, but she wasn't quick enough to stop him finding his feet again. She quickly turned and brought her leg curling into his side, but he was ready for her. Snatching her ankle, he twisted and slammed her down. Buffy sucked in a painful breath before she rolled sideways and rose to a crouch. Dodging swiftly, she collided into his chest. She could feel several ribs crunch under her shoulder as she knocked him back to the floor. Wasting no time, she lashed down at his stunned body, but he scrambled backwards and she missed him by an inch. Her fist plunged through the metal with a grating split.

Dean staggered to his feet and hastily backed up, wide eyes flashing, the fear unmistakable even on his demonic features. Buffy smirked, though for once there was no flippant humour in her tone. "What? Finally bitten off more than you could chew?"

He snorted. "Don't flatter yourself."

She clenched her fists, the clarity of rage surging through her body as she hurled them both back into combat.

It wasn't long before she'd forced them to the teetering edge. Locked as they were, at this rate they would both go over the side. Buffy's eyes were hollow. Dark pits that fell away into an empty soul. Dean felt panic claw into his stomach. He would never admit it out loud, but this girl was freaking the shit out of him. His lips stretched in a sharp hiss. "Crazy bitch."

In eerie contrast, her slight smile was light and airy; like she was truly amused. It was short lived. "You have no idea."

She stepped back and broke their locked limbs. In a flash, she ducked under a powerful strike before pulling upright and landing a kick in the dead centre of his rib cage. The strength sent him flying backwards off the crates. The heavy thud of his landing was lost in the roar of air, as she leaped off after him.

Buffy landed on the ground in a smooth roll. She was on top of him again before he could regain his feet. She grabbed his jacket at his shoulders and brought her knee crunching into his gut. Unnecessary air spewed from his lungs with the impact. From his doubled over position, he seized her around the waist and rammed his head into her stomach. The force sent them both crashing backwards into more dock debris.

Buffy gasped, pinned between his body and a massive metal crane base. Stretching up, her hands grasped at the rusty metal behind her head and with a grimace, she yanked herself up and out of his grip. Her muscles trembled in exertion but she kicked out and cracked her foot into his skull. Dropping quickly back to the ground, she staggered slightly before advancing once more, dark eyes wild as she slammed her fist into his chin. A meticulous roundhouse kick sent him sprawling to the ground.

She barely registered the blows upon her body, the taste of blood in her mouth, the ache in her head. It seemed dulled somehow. As if were happening to another body. One she was vaguely connected to but almost unaware of. She only felt faint echoes of the pain, which came and went like rippling waves through her limbs. The writhing body under her vicious attacks was all she knew. The only solid thing in her world. The only thing that mattered now.

Angel glimpsed her out the corner of his eye. She had dragged the vampire down amongst the broken wreckage that had spilled across the waterfront. He barely had time to yell as a white hand lashed out, punching into her breastbone, throwing her back into a forklift truck.

Buffy groaned and stilled from the hard impact. Her eyes fluttered before she desperately shook off the painful cloud of disorientation. With a backwards somersault, she sprang back to her feet only to find her attacker bearing down on her. Whipping a stake from her sleeve, she spun and struck out -- slashing the lunging vampire across his chest. Sprays of blood painted her clothes in morbid splashes.

Angel inhaled harshly. Gritting his teeth, he backed away from his own fight before twisting down. Grasping the metal shard he had landed upon, he grunted and pulled it out of his thigh.

A body smashed through something, and he spun around. Buffy had floored the demon with a devastating blow. As Angel watched, she moved in quickly before the sonovabitch could even fully turn around. Her hands darted out, wrenching his arm behind him. She slammed her foot into the back of his calf, forcing him to his knees. There was no hint of recognition from her, no glimmer of the girl he loved. It was as if she had surrendered all her humanity in favour of unhindered Slayer strength. There was an edge of sadistic cruelty simmering through her, which he could sense from even his short distance away. Something he'd never felt before. Something that was wrong. Something he was all too familiar with, but something that had never belonged to Buffy. Like she had nothing left to lose. Angel felt his heart twist inside his chest, refusing to believe.

Her face tightened in a flash of cold fury. She didn't even wince as she pulled the vampire's arm to a horrible angle, her eyes burning into his back. A curdling scream filled the night, as with one clean jerk she snapped the twisted joint at the elbow -- the bone splitting with a juddering crack.

Angel shouted in panic, but Buffy was beyond hearing him. She launched her petite body at the convulsing form on the ground before her; curled up hands clawing at every bit of flesh she could find. Before Angel could move to her, he was sideswiped by an unseen fist.

Ed was barely holding himself up, only sheer loathing and the swamping high of combat and wounded pride, keeping him from crumpling to the ground in agony. His insides felt on fire. That whore. Concentrating every last bit of strength to get his limbs to respond, he flung himself at the blood traitor. He wouldn't get to help her. There was no saving her.

He grimaced in satisfaction as the pathetic excuse for their race shrunk back ever so slightly from him. He moved in, but an arm suddenly shot out and blocked his incoming fist. In the same second, a different pain stabbed through his chest; more acute than even his mangled organs. _Oh..._

Angel jerked himself free of the fading hold, as with a look of dawning realisation, the smaller vampire crumbled into bone and then nothing more than dust that blew to the ground. Angel stumbled slightly as he backed up and turned away. His eyes widened.

"Buffy!" He ran; gaze locked on the feral vampire that lurched unsteadily towards her distracted form.

Kyle had finally pulled himself free from the iron spear and was nearly crazed with vengeance; intense pain breaking upon the banks of his sanity. Fangs bared in a monstrous growl, he was almost upon her back when he was violently tackled by a colliding body. They skidded across the ground, in a flurry of lashing muscles and ripping snarls.

Buffy was unaware of how close she had just come to losing her life; lost too deeply in her frantic fight with the fiend that had murdered her friends. She had never before embraced her Slayer instincts to such dangerous extents; let them so wholly possess her. She'd fallen into the powerful refuge, willed it to block out everything else. And it had felt frighteningly easy. But that protection was slowly waning.

Breathing hard, she pinned his bloodied and twisted body to the ground, pounding his fractured skull mercilessly. She couldn't control her own body. The fury was fevered. Uncoordinated limbs made weak attempts to kick her off, to stem her relentless and frenzied attacks, but she hardly noticed. Her movements had broken; becoming desperate and jerky, enraged and trembling. She felt the sticky, grimy blood wet on her clothes, warm against her skin; like some kind of war paint for her brutal crimes.

Bruised knuckles smashed across his cheek, slamming his head back against the ground. Deadly fangs cut into her fist as she drove it into his jaw over and over again, but Buffy didn't even flinch. Those same teeth that ripped their lives to shreds...

The strangled cry felt foreign on her lips. Was it even hers?

"Buffy -- finish it!"

The distant yell passed through her like an empty whisper. The voice sounded angry. Upset. Why?

Her heart was ripping apart along with the flesh under her hands. The body groaned and snarled, but she wouldn't relinquish. She couldn't end it.

She _had_ to end it.

Snatching out, she grabbed up a snapped sheet of metal. In one furious swipe, she sliced the searing blade clean through his neck. She slumped as the mangled body finally dissolved to ash beneath her, falling away with almost a soft sigh of relief.

~o~

Angel drew back from the slowly scattering ashes of his opponent. With a pained sigh, he shifted back into his human face. Rubbing a distracted hand over his features, he winced at the forming bruises and let his shoulders sag slightly. The air was quiet. The night was calm and still once more. The storm was over.

He looked over silently. Buffy had risen to her feet. The jagged metal slipped from her fingers, which hung loosely at her sides. She stared at the bloody ground where her victim had disappeared from, finally escaping her savage wrath.

Her shoulders were heaving; her back shaking in the rolling trembles that shook through her body. Angel kept back warily, conscious of the raging adrenaline she was still experiencing. He watched her closely, waiting.

Then she turned slightly, and the vampire was shocked to see the lost tears that soaked her eyes. Great salty swells; drowning out the murderous fire in rising tides of realisation, of grief, of utter helplessness. Her gaze lifted to his and he felt his long-dead heart break all over again. The damns broke.

"Angel…"

He was there to catch her. Always.

In one movement he drew her close, holding her up as Buffy crumpled into herself and collapsed against him. Pulled under by the crashing wall of grief, guilt and sheer devastating sadness that she'd held back for so long.

Tears of frustration, unfairness, anger and loss all swept over her; threatening to drag her down forever. They folded to the ground as the last of her willpower betrayed her. Buffy clung and wept with all the pent up distress of a child who didn't understand what had happened; why the world was suddenly so cold. Why life could be so unrelentingly cruel. Why this had to happen to them. What was she meant to have done differently? How could she have failed so badly to protect her own friends?! She could help endless strangers, but never the ones who really mattered to her. It was the curse of her existence.

She should have saved Oz. She should have stopped Willow - brought her friend back from the brink of that precarious drop she had jumped off into. Her world was broken and Buffy didn't understand why. She didn't understand any of it.

And Angel couldn't explain it to her.

There was no rhyme or reason to this that any of them could see, blinded in loss as they were. Senseless destruction was all they could see of tomorrow. Maybe one day that would change, but for now Angel just pulled the shivering girl tighter into his embrace, as if he willed to protect her from her own assaulting emotions. It tore him up as he heard her draw in gulping sobs, her face pressed into his chest, hands fisted in his jacket. He felt the desperation with which she gave in to the despair, and relief soothed the edges of his painful empathy. Yes, she may not resurface for a while; but she would eventually. He wouldn't let her drown.

The Slayer cried the tears of a confused child. An overwhelmed girl. An abandoned friend.

She missed Willow.

Cool fingers stroked the back of her head, his cheek pressed against tangled blonde hair, his body a safe harbour that enclosed around her. The words were no more than a watery whisper. "Where is she, Angel?"

"I wish I knew," he murmured, too quietly for her to hear.

There in the middle of the night, on a damp and pungent dock strewn with blood soaked ash, in the arms of her love -- Buffy finally fell apart. Shattered pieces held together only by the strong arms that encircled her.

o0o

* * *

**AN:** Again, sorry this took so long to get out, but this was an important fight and I wanted to do it justice. Little notes about this chapter: So, in Angel's reflections at the start we have a little foreshadowing of Joyce's talk with him in "The Prom". It seemed fitting that she would turn to him again with such grave concerns about her daughter, since Giles and Xander are pretty much no-go's. And we will be seeing more of them too. I had fun writing these vampires - despicable, cocky, evil and bigoted as they were! Still, I owe them for giving me the unique Wishverse I'm currently playing in. Interesting to see how one senseless act of cruelty can change everything. Life turns on a dime.

Quite a dark chapter I guess, especially seeing that side of Buffy and her Slayer identity. That was really interesting to explore, from a writer's perspective. The world on the other side of the mirror is not a happy place at the moment. Though, the idea of vamps still having a strange, competitive pride in their local sporting teams was amusing to me at least ;)

What did you think? Tell me in a review :) 'Til next time...


	22. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty**

"Ugh! Stupid, obstructive, stupid… book!"

Oz looked up from his seat on the couch to see Willow scowl at the offending object, punctuating each insult with a smack to the long yellowing pages. With a sigh, she slumped back and contented herself with sullen glares. Why wasn't it being helpful?

"Don't let Giles see you doing that."

"Well, it should be more useful! Instead it just keeps referring me to other books - that I've already read or can't find - and they refer back. It's like being stuck in a very slow ping-pong game."

His eyes shone with the laughter that didn't pass his lips as he watched the frustrated girl hit the book one last time for good measure, albeit with much less force than previously.

"Bad, bad book!" she grumbled again before glancing over. He had that look she had come to know so well. She suddenly felt pleasantly foolish; his quiet smile that had calmed her panics so often before, working its magic again. "Did you find anything?"

Oz cast his gaze down to the open pages that lay propped up in his lap. "Lots slightly… disturbing, but none particularly useful."

Nodding, Willow pulled another creaking volume towards her across the desk and began scanning wearily.

The studious quiet resumed for a few minutes as the two teens flicked and scanned through centuries worth of knowledge; of demons and battles, myths and diaries, Slayers and warriors, spells and ancient magics. The rhythmic beat of Giles's pacing feet echoed in the main library; tired metal creaked as the book cage was nudged by an absent shoulder while outside, the nearly full moon hung low and bloated in the thick night sky. The soft lamps glowed golden in the small office, casting smooth shadows across the dark walls.

Oz could already feel it pushing under his skin. Circling and swelling impatiently inside his bones and blood. Stalking the boundaries of his human mind like the caged animal he was deep down, waiting for its chance to strike through his weakened defences. Losing everything he was, with no way to stop it. Closing his eyes with a silent inhale, the motionless boy attempted to practice the meditation techniques Giles had taught him. When his breathing had settled into a slow steady rhythm and the pool of his mind was calm again, he opened his gaze to the rest of the world with a sense of familiar trepidation. He could resist the primal call of the wolf for the most part, for now, but the physical signs were already well established. His eyes were increasingly sensitive to the light and dark; sounds and smells were ever greater amplified to his sharp senses. These restless nights were usually put to use with extensive research or patrolling. Anything he could do to help. Anything to distract.

He could feel it even now; an intrusive toxin slowly spreading throughout his body, poisoning everything he was. Every part of him was fine-tuning for the coming moon. Every day he became less Oz, and more wolf -- and it scared him more than he would ever admit. He knew it would be so much more intense tomorrow. It was only a few days.

His body stiffened as a very particular scent caught his attention. Soft vanilla and fresh honeysuckle drifted together with the lingering taste of parchment and page, aged ink and something that defied expression. Oz tilted his head an inch to the side in a remarkably animal gesture. The other occupant of the room shuffled and adjusted her head upon her hand as another pleasant wave washed through the air.

Oz fought the urge to close his eyes as he inhaled slowly. Ever since he'd first changed, he'd found himself increasingly able to recognise each individual human scent. He knew Annie, Mike, Giles and Jenny by heart, and was even vaguely aware of them during the rest of the month, when their emotional states were particularly heightened. It was an... interesting side effect to have. It had certainly proved its use at points in the past. But this, Willow's scent, was something -- else. A slight smile lifted his mouth. Was anything about this girl _not_ unusual?

He frowned suddenly as her scent filtered into his mind and his thoughts temporarily fell to disorder. The subtle layers seemed to grope blindly in the back of his mind, as if attempting to grasp and trigger the almost-nothing shadows that drifted there. He shook his head in quick sharp movement and dispelled the uncomfortable confusion. It was like having a severe case of tip-of-the-tongue syndrome. At least, that was what it was beginning to feel like. Oz was getting almost used to the bursts of uncertainty that kept creeping up on him at odd moments. But no matter how much time he gave over to the unsettling sensation, nothing ever came from it. It was frustrating the stoic teen no end, so he had taken to dismissing them as quickly as they came.

He forced his eyes back to the page, but knew he was fighting a losing battle. He couldn't concentrate. In the quiet of their shared space, every sound caught his ears through the ajar office door. He could hear Giles's leather shoes squeak softly; someone was knocking the leg of the table in a steady thoughtful beat; the doors of the weapons cupboard sighed as they were pried open. And the warm, sweet scent that continued to tease his senses, was the most distracting pull on Oz's attention. Strangely seeming to calm and excite the wolf in equal measures, it took a lot of his formidable self-disciple to maintain his usual neutral expression.

His thumb tapped the page absently. Through dark lashes, his gaze landed on the figure that leant upon Giles's old desk; a serious face absorbed in the secrets contained within the aged pages before them. Her hand travelled lazily, sliding up the slope of her slender neck to play with the fine hairs at her nape. Scarlet threads twirled around her fingertips in distracted thought.

Oz dragged his gaze away and ran a hand through his hair, anxiously looking anywhere else in the small office. So much for the meditative calm breathing, he thought dryly.

~o~

He picked up the raised voices before she did. His head turned towards the muffled sounds. A few moments later, the arguing voices of Annie and Mike increased in clarity and volume, along with striding steps as feet crossed the polished floor. Willow caught his eye and both moved to the doorway as the heated exchange beyond gathered centre stage.

"...something stupid, I can tell!"

"You don't know anything Mike! I'm just going for some air, I can't stand being cooped up."

Jenny watched the quarrelling kids from the table as Giles moved to intercept if any mediating would be required.

Mike caught Annie's coat collar, forcing her to turn around. "It's hard on all of us, you know! You always do this! Don't shut us out."

With a flick of coal black hair, the young woman jerked out of his grip angrily. "Spare me. I'm just going for a walk, which by the way, I don't need your permission for!" She shot him an aggravated glare and spun on her heel as she stormed for the doors. "Don't worry, I'll try to not to die in the next fifteen minutes!" she called mockingly over her shoulder as with a resounding bang, Annie blew out the library.

Awkward silence hovered in the wake of her exit. Mike stared at the doors for a second before with a sigh he rubbed the back of his neck and turned around to see the assembled audience to their little scene. He shrugged, embarrassment pushing in amongst the irritation.

"She'll be alright." Mike looked over to Oz, who stood against the office door frame beside a very worried looking Willow. "Annie can take care of herself."

The younger boy rubbed his face and made a low murmur of acknowledgment. "I know, I know. It's just so annoying when she takes off like that. Like she has to fight this war all by herself."

"It's been a rough week. For everyone. Let her have some alone time."

Mike nodded slowly at the Watcher's solemn words. With an apologetic glance around at the others, he moved quickly back up the steps to his own abandoned research.

~o~

Oz had walked back into the office to pick up the tome he had been struggling through when he heard a sigh behind him. Turning around, he saw her click the door shut and press her palm against the wood.

"People are tense."

"You get used to it."

She looked over, subdued anxiousness in her eyes. She clearly wanted to talk more. Oz sat down on the arm of the old leather couch. "Giles knows something is coming. Even if he won't share." He shrugged. "Guess he figures we're due for another run-in with the Master. No-one finds that idea fun."

"But, you guys have fought him before, right?" Willow stared at the older boy who finally looked up and met her gaze.

"Ranks pretty high on the list of experiences I'd like to never repeat."

Silence fell between them once more. Willow picked at the wool of her maroon jumper. "He's not unbeatable," she blurted abruptly. Walking across the room, she placed her hands on the back of the desk chair. "It's just... Well, I mean..." With a puff, she blew some hair off her forehead and tried again. "You know, where I came from?"

Oz gave a nod to encourage her to continue.

"Well, there Buffy managed to stop him. She had to face some pretty scary stuff to do it, but she did it. I know you, we, don't have her, or well _any_ Slayer here, but -- you guys are really strong. I mean, you've been fighting him for years; you've saved a lot of lives. You've done a lot of good. I- I believe we can stop him. We'll find something. We've always beaten the evil before, always found a way. This is nothing we can't handle. I know it." She finished with a confident nod and a bright smile. She felt better now. Somehow just saying it out loud to someone made it feel true, all the more real.

Oz felt himself smile faintly. A small hopeful part of him stirred briefly and for a moment, he could believe her.

"Okay."

Her nose crinkled so gently as she smiled back. All full and warm, teeth flashing, eyes bright and deeply alive -- a proper grin. She smiled with her whole face, her whole being. And it was like a shot of surging adrenaline to a sleeping heart. He looked away and found that his own was still lingering on his face.

This was not good.


	23. Chapter Twenty One

So, yeah, I haven't dropped off the face of the Earth - though it's felt like it sometimes. Time is moving too fast and too slow at the same time, it's a strange sensation. Anyway, I finally cracked through the nasty writer's block; it's been a slow and frustrating process but I'm pretty happy with how it's turned out. Hopefully you'll be too :) I want to thank everyone for the words of encouragement, they really do mean a lot. In case it wasn't obvious, some of the dialogue here is borrowed. And with good reason.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**

It was yet another blistering hot morning. The sun was a white golden smudge in the hazy sky, casting the streets below in a sticky sheen. It was the close kind of heat that came with the tantalizing promise of imminent rain. And it usually heralded the start of a long and lazy summer.

Entirely too hot, Willow had decided, to be stuck in school. Especially since she really didn't _have_ to be there anymore. She never thought she would tire of the library, but the sneaking around got a bit tedious after so long, and she was fed up of dodging the unfamiliar teachers and all-too familiar students.

She skirted to the edge of the sidewalk, dropped her bag at her feet and peeled away the pink cardigan from her damp shoulders. Leaning back, she pressed her now bare arms against the brick in the hope of leeching some coolness from within.

It was a day to be lying in the scalding sand; breathing in the fresh, salty air; falling and jumping in the warm surf of breaking waves. She tilted her head up, eyes slipping shut as she let the sunshine bathe her face with the familiar touch of an old friend. Buffy would've no doubt been bouncing around; girl could never keep still, all that Slayer energy running riot.

"_Oh yeah. Go team me!" Buffy grinned and did a little victory dance with football, sarong flapping about her legs in the ocean breeze. _

Xander would put himself in charge of the barbeque, despite the fact he nearly ignited the kitchen just making pancakes that time…

"_The, uh, fire's not cooperating. It's comforting to know that I lack the culinary finesse of a caveman."_

Willow jerked straight so quickly she nearly cracked her head on the wall. Shaking away the futile daydream she scooped up her bag, tied the cardigan around her waist and turned away towards Main Street.

Shopping.

It had sounded like a good plan; a day in town, fresh surroundings and a break from routine. Jenny had promised she would contact her if the event of any mayhem, intrigue or fresh tragedy breaking out, so Willow felt at relative ease to enjoy her authorised escape.

She headed for one of her favourite spots: a second-hand bookshop she had discovered last year and had since made a habit of checking in on every few weeks, in search of hidden treasures. She'd found a weathered edition of '_Alice Through the Looking Glass'_ once, full of rare illustrations, along with collections of poetry from Yeats to Sylvia Plath and Alfred Noyes. The little man who ran it was quite grouchy, in the way of those who prefer orderly quiet over the chaos of other people, but she liked to think he'd actually started to warm to her over her frequent trips, and had even agreed to try and track down a first edition she had been looking to get for Giles's birthday.

She rounded the corner to the lane she had so often visited, and stopped short. Her face fell at the sight of boarded up windows and crumbling brick that greeted her. She stared at the faded sign which announced that the establishment had been a Pawnshop previously, rather than the cluttered, antique book store she had known.

Willow shook her head and snapped her mouth shut. Right. Not her world.

It was stupid that despite all the glaring differences, she still managed to forget sometimes. If there was one thing life had taught her repeatedly, it was that denial-land was a dangerous place to live in. She had to quit thinking like that. She had to stop clinging to what was gone. Her eyes fell to the ground as she wondered when - or even _if_ - this strange and distorted world would ever feel like home.

Pulling herself away, she let her feet take her back into the heart of town, where hopefully there would be more people and shops she could lose herself in. Though she was reluctant to actually use the spending money Jenny had thrust into her hands that morning, she found it burning a hole in her pocket as she wandered through town. By the time she passed an ice-cream van at the edge of the park, her purse was practically a lead weight against her body, begging to be lightened. She hesitated for a moment before her feet turned to skip across the road, coins cool against her palm.

~o~

The rainbow stripes of her ice lolly glittered in the muggy sunlight as it filtered through the trees and fell across the park path in dappled pools. The green shade was almost as refreshing as the icy sweet and Willow stretched her arm and ran her hand over the leaves as she walked, catching the soft pads between her fingers and drinking in the sounds around her. A lazy smile filled her face as she looked over the grass and took another bite.

The sunlight was safe. She could see it in their faces. Friends laughed and lounged about on benches; a college student had spread out her books on the grass, bagel in one hand and glasses perched on her nose. Willow smiled at a passing couple and the excitable Labrador with them as it ran over to give her a cursory appraisal and receive a quick pat before dashing ahead along the path. Her plimsolls danced along the ground as she twisted and twirled around, trying to see everything all at once.

It was unbelievably good to see people. Just _people_. To watch them getting on with their lives, talking and arguing and rushing to meetings, studying and hanging out. Humans really were remarkably resilient when she thought about it. They could and would build lives for themselves anywhere, even on a mouth to Hell that was getting wider every day. And they would survive and carry on against all the odds; because that was what they did best. They worried about bills and deadlines and forgotten birthdays and school gossip when the world stood on a knife edge around them... and that was what made them wonderful. Willow knew how brief all their mortal lives flickered next to the existence of other creatures, but they could cram so much into such a bright spark.

Okay, so they weren't the most perceptive as species went. Fair enough. But as she looked around, she could tell that on some instinctive level the people here knew that the sun was their best ally in the blood-stained battleground they stood on. How many people had lost their lives between these very trees in nights past? She shuddered as she recalled her first patrol here, in a park so very similar to this. Yet the sunshine drove the monsters back into the shadows; forced away the nameless darkness that stalked their streets and had touched every heart with loss and fear. The people of this Sunnydale had come far closer to the void of Hell than they had ever in her world. The loud laughs were tinged with a desperate bravado; their eyes never quite lost the edgy suspicion of the hunted.

Licking the last of the sweetened ice from her lips, Willow frowned thoughtfully at her sticky fingers and debated if it would look bad if she were to run back and purchase three more of the juice lollies.

Walking on aimlessly, she wondered where to go. It was a strange feeling to have this sense of rootless freedom. She was a ghost. A displaced identity. She had no obligations or responsibilities, no claim to her own history in this world, no right to exist here - filling a dead girl's shoes.

Willow quickly shook off the morbid thoughts that too often overran her head these days. If she pondered the ins and outs of her own paradox much more, she might think herself right out of existence.

She could do anything really. Yeah, that was a better way of looking at it. She had fresh start; endless new and old possibilities to explore; she was the master of her future - hadn't she already proved that? Mistake or not, this was her path now. And it was more than a little daunting. Who was she when she couldn't be Xander's best friend? What would she be when she was no longer the Slayer's sidekick? Willow straightened her shoulders bravely and tightened her grip on the bag strap across her chest. Time to find out.

Besides, she thought as she looked back across the open park, it was kinda nice to have the opportunity to do whatever she wanted during the day. Dodging a wayward child, she cut onto another path that led back out. The scent of spring flowers and sun-warmed grass filled the heavy air with fragrance, and she smiled a little drunkenly as she soaked it in.

Leaving the cool shade of the park behind, she plunged back into the noisy streets. The shops were getting a little busier with the influx of workers on their lunch hours. She ducked into a video store on the corner and indulged in a mindless browse of their selections, pausing as she spotted an ex-rental copy of '_The__ Mask'_ for sale. Smiling, she let her fingers brush against the cover as she thought of Mike and his recent confession of addiction to all things Jim Carrey. Shame he was stuck in school just now.

Another thought struck her then: was this what it felt like to play truant? With a start, she suddenly realised that although she still spent the majority of her time in school, she hadn't actually attended any classes for weeks. She wasn't technically a student anymore. The thought was frighteningly sobering. Did that make her a drop-out? But it wasn't as if she could enrol anyway, how - _Stop it_. With a deep sigh, the straight-A student lifted her chin with determination and pushed the panic reflex down into a very small ball in the corner of her mind. She had bigger things to worry about, right? After all, she'd already broken perhaps one of the most important rules in the universe; a little skiving was nothing. A small grin wavered on her lips. Hell yeah, she was a rebel now. She picked up the video and took it to the counter.

As it turned out, this newly discovered rebellious streak lasted about another forty minutes before giving in to old habits.

~o~

"Yes, everything's_ fine_. Stop trying to jinx it with all this worry." Jenny's voice held a note of tired amusement, like she couldn't decide whether to sigh or laugh at her.

Willow adjusted the payphone in the crook of her shoulder as she dug around in her purse for more coins should she need them. "Oh, that's good. I'm mean, are you sure? No out-of-the-ordinary weirdness? No poltergeists in the lockers? Zombies in the science lab? Mutant fish in the pool-?" she babbled on in a rush, oblivious to Jenny's slightly baffled silence at the other end.

"Um, not that I've noticed. It's been a slow morning. But I suppose the day's not over yet; we could still get lucky."

"Okay, but you'll let me know if anything happens, right? Oh and I forgot to tell you, I bookmarked some sites on the computer the other day that looked promising; I was going to have a look at them later. Some old archive records. And do you know if Giles found anything in—"

"I can see your plan of getting a break from the library has been a rousing success," the teacher cut in dryly.

"Uh… consider this a relapse."

"Hmm."

"I am having a good time, honest! Shopping and sugar and all that – it's great. But… everyone's okay? Sure you don't need me?"

"Willow…"

"Just checking. Shallow indulgence is only fun when it's guilt-free, y'know."

She heard her friend sigh through the phone but when she spoke again there was a faint smile in her words. "I despair of you lot sometimes. Really, you're still young and full of energy - you're supposed to be good at this kind of thing. Look, I've got another class starting soon. Go. Have you had any lunch yet? Don't obsess; try to relax – that's an order, okay – and I'll see you tonight. Oh, and if you get a chance can you pick up something for dinner? I don't think I have much in, unless you find frozen pastry and cloves a strangely appetizing combination."

Willow grinned. "Yeah, no problem. And don't worry about me. Back on the joy train, I swear."

"Good." There was a pause. "Just… be careful, okay?"

"I will. Say hi to Giles for me."

~o~

Bolstered by Jenny's assurances, Willow proceeded to take full advantage of the time to re-acquaint herself with the streets of this second Sunnydale. She tried to note all the little changes she came across, the new shops and changed buildings, and used it all to re-write her mental map of the town. _Always know the layout of your terrain_. He'd said that once in the middle of a hasty battle discussion. It was all that residual military knowledge slipping out at random times. Her mind reluctantly flashed to a distant Halloween night; her friend in a soldier's uniform; army bases and stolen rocket launchers. It was a good point. Another common principle of war was to know your enemy.

However, she made a conscious effort to avoid the streets surrounding the Bronze as she continued her explorations. That area of town was pretty quiet anyway, its reputation well known and the urge to steer clear engrained into people's instincts. The air didn't feel right there, tinged with stale blood and fear; the threatening darkness un-dampened by the sun. No-one ventured there without a death wish and Willow wasn't ready to give up on this life just yet.

Her stomach grumbled loudly, catching her by surprise with the realisation that she had eaten nothing since the ice lolly this morning. Jenny's earlier suggestion of lunch suddenly seemed like a very appealing idea. Stepping back out onto the baking street, she turned her feet in search of a source of edible goodness.

Now that she was thinking of food, she was in a hurry to get some. Hunger gnawed at her insides with impatience so she headed for the nearest place she could think of. She carefully averted her eyes as she passed the closed up Sun Cinema, the forlorn building holding too many memories, and walked on until she stepped into the open interior of Espresso Pump. A quick order later and Willow was settling down at a round table with an iced coffee, savoury pretzel and large blueberry muffin. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest of meals but she was going for energy over substance right now. She laid the bags with Mike's video along with her other purchases between her feet and took a ravenous bite of the salty dough.

Opening the book she had just bought about the English Civil War, she propped her chin in her palm and prepared to lose her thoughts in bloody, political intrigue. She seemed to have developed quite a fondness for European history and was steadily working her way through the reigns of the various monarchs. She loved the way seemingly little events impacted on the waves of history, made by ordinary people who were extraordinary through their actions, beliefs or way of thinking. How single and collective choices led to movements that inspired whole nations. But she couldn't help but wonder how many more stories lay untold between the lines of the official records; how many heroes had fallen by the wayside of time?

It was fascinating to study the conflicts, inventions, science and ideologies that had shaped the world. But most of all to her, it was humbling to learn just how subjective and shaded in gray the wars of humans could be. They fought over differing ideals, how countries should be governed; rights and freedoms and love fought for in blood, deceit and betrayal until the lines blurred and the men who led the revolutions had to struggle to retain their own souls. All in the name of progress. A morality as fickle and flawed as the individuals that moulded them. All were fighting for a better future; they just couldn't agree. A sad smile moved her lips as she read on. She couldn't decide if they were luckier or not. Things were simpler for them weren't they? Fight and slay the evil; go home and eat cookies. She couldn't help but think how much smoother the revolution would have gone if Charles I had simply turned out to be a shape-shifting demon. If there was one thing that could unite bickering factions it was mutual fear of something more powerful than either. The smile turned into a silent laugh. The absurd thing was that it was perfectly possible that there _had_ been supernatural forces at work somewhere within that milestone of history. She brushed crumbs off the page and turned over.

She blamed Giles really. He had given her a copy of _'The Tudors'_ last summer when she had still been recuperating from her coma. Being excluded from patrol and any heavy exertion had been bad enough, but coupled with the worry of a missing Buffy it meant she'd been a mess of anxious energy those first few weeks. As such, she had ripped her way through the massive hardback within days; soothing her whirring mind with the absorbing stories. It had proved such a good distraction that Oz had arrived the next day bearing further offerings that he'd lifted from the Watcher's personal collection - with reluctant permission of course.

Her eyes unfocused from the page, turning away into distant memories.

She remembered curling up on those long afternoons, reading so intently beside him that every so often she would snap up with an apologetic smile and reach out a hand to his, worried he would think her rude for ignoring him. He had read too, finding easy pleasure in the quiet activity and her presence. Sometimes he tuned his guitar, thumbing disjointed tunes that followed the musing tempo of his thoughts or working away on the new songs they were rehearsing. Sometimes he skipped patrol to keep her company; sometimes he brought back the stories when they met for lunch the next day, melting her disgruntled pout into a laugh as they picked at the food and she proceeded to needle him to recount all the details to satisfy her endless curiosity. She remembered walking together to Giles's; the feel of his arm securely around her waist, pulling her body against his side as she wobbled and got used to finding her feet again. She could recall all the lazy group picnics they'd shared with their friends; midnight snacks in deserted graveyards as they waited for their quarry to come out and play; trying to stay un-couplely around a melancholy Xander who was for some inexplicable reason - really missing Cordelia. Rounding off every near-successful staking with a trip to the Bronze and rewards of chocolate; nursing their bruises as Xander pushed the idea of walkie-talkies for their tracking teams and Oz offered sparing critiques on the nightly bands.

Shifting, she straightened up and pushed aside the now empty plate. Her eyes flickered between the tables as if she couldn't quite recognise her surroundings. It all seemed like a different lifetime now; part of a past that had never happened anywhere but in her own head. A whole world of adventures, fun and danger, heartache and love contained solely within her memories. Sometimes she worried the weight would crush her. It was a lot to carry on your own.

Her gaze drifted out to the street. If she squinted really hard she could almost pretend she was back home. She screwed her eyes up and cocked her head, peering through the bright sunlight and searching the scene as if by sheer force of will she could locate some crack in the universe, some almost invisible fissure between dimensions through which she could steal one last glance of _her_ streets and sky. But there was nothing. Cars streamed past and people walked by, oblivious to the parallel lives that moved just behind the curtains of reality.

Across the street, a girl with spiky pink hair laughed and smacked her boyfriend's shoulder affectionately. He grinned, obviously pleased with the reaction to his boastful story and tugged at her waist, pulling her into a light kiss. The girl giggled as she tried to juggle her shopping bags before she gave up and dropped them to wrap her arms around his neck and enjoy the moment properly. They couldn't be more than sixteen.

Willow forced her eyes away, swallowing down the familiar burn in her throat. Never had it hurt so much to witness such easy intimacy. She hated that every loving touch and playful glance only made her own heart feel colder, shrinking in her chest until it was hard to breathe deeply. Why did the universe have to taunt her with painful reminders of what she'd lost? The young teenagers couldn't know how their brief embrace was tearing fresh holes through one girl's fragile walls.

They pulled apart enough to link their hands as they resumed walking. She couldn't help but watch the way the couple leaned into each other as if sharing whispered secrets, loose hands swinging slightly between them as they nudged each other in an affectionate tug-of-war. Flaunting what she'd possibly lost forever. Willow slumped on her stool with a frustrated sigh. At times like this it was almost unbearable to know that everything she missed; everything that could help ease the sadness which twisted through her chest like choking weeds; all that she envied about the couples around her was within tantalizing reach of her fingertips yet still completely untouchable. Like an invisible partition that divided her memory from physical reality, she could press her hand against the glass but never quite touch the other side. Every time she was left with only the empty reflections of a lost future, rippling gently back in the mirror's surface.

Drawing herself out of the depressing conundrum of her love life, Willow shoved the book back into her bag and stood up, smoothing down her skirt. She had one more stop to make before heading to the grocery store.

~o~

The little bell tinkled merrily above her head, announcing her presence to the silence as Willow stepped out of the afternoon sun and into the dark interior of the Magic shop.

Well, it wasn't really much darker than she remembered, and that just came with the same dark mahogany wood shelves and fabric curtains that draped across most of the windows to protect the sensitive products inside.

She stepped past the small cloth-covered tables, glancing down at the assorted offerings of crystals and charms, before moving into the rows of high shelves. She was curious to see the new ranges of stock the shop seemed to have acquired. As her eyes roved the stacks, the witch found she could only name less than half of the items, though some she knew by sight. She felt her eyebrows arch as she quickly processed the many additions of darker magical supplies to the Wicca store. Magic was a delicate balance to maintain for even the most experienced, things could go wrong at a snap even with the best of intentions, yet there were items here she knew could cause fatal havoc in the wrong hands - she recognised several things Giles that had made a point of warning her away from. She spotted ingredients that were common to curses and dangerous mind spells sitting next to the usual sage and acacia bark. Deceptively innocent amulets hung in cabinets, wreathed in unfathomable enchantments.

New also were the long, weapon cases against the back wall. As she peered inside she saw they included many of the traditional supplies but even more were objects she had never seen before. A shiver coursed up her spine at the sheer potential power locked away in some of these ancient sources, just waiting to be tapped. Running her fingers along the glass edge of the case, Willow realised that the entire shop was steered towards the more powerful and advanced realm of battle magic. Perhaps not unsurprisingly, she added mentally. Still, she felt a pang of nostalgia for her old, quirky magic shop with its bags of canary feathers and jars of newt eyes. It felt like magic was purely practical here; like seemingly everything else - it was a weapon.

She jumped back a step as what looked like a large, smoky black moth flung itself against the glass of its container as her hand brushed over it. The smells of mixed herbs and potions stung her nose as she worked her way back towards the middle of the shop. A crackle of nervous excitement skimmed the edge of her mind like a teasing finger-stroke. Her eyes swept across the large room; it was unlike anything she'd had access to before.

"Can I help you?"

Willow turned sharply to see the woman who had appeared at her shoulder. She had curly dark hair that fell below her shoulders and creases at the edges of her gray eyes that made her look tired and wary despite the benign smile on her lips and polite curiosity in her expression.

"Oh. Thanks, I was just having a look around." She gestured to the shelves beside them, "You've got a really… interesting collection."

"Thank you. Have you visited us before?"

"Well, I…No. No, I was just passing and thought maybe I could pick some stuff up."

"Oh, well I'm Grace. Is there is anything in particular you were looking for? We just got a new shipment of holy water and blessed Crucifixes in stock, they're our best-sellers. If you're looking for something cheaper, the garlic necklaces are popular though obviously pungent and not as durable."

"Right. Sure. Sounds like you're pretty busy huh?"

Grace gave a small shrug. "We do good business, though it's always quieter on clear days like this. We've got a special deal this week on luck charms if you're interested?"

"That's okay. Those tend to be pretty gimmicky and ineffective unless connected to a stronger power source anyway. I was thinking about getting some cedar leaf, aniseed and maybe amethyst though if you have them?"

"Yes, of course." The assistant regarded her carefully for a moment before snapping to attention and showing her over to the left hand side of the shop. This girl clearly wasn't just another scared and superstitious kid. She watched as Willow bent over the display bowls, running the herbs through her fingers with small nods of approval before picking up the sealed bags on the shelves and weighing them in her hands with a practised eye. Grace couldn't help herself. "Can I ask - how long have you been a practising Wicca?"

She thought the girl hesitated for a moment before she seemed to relax, turning to Grace with a modest smile. "Not that long. Still very much a novice really. Nothing special." She turned back to the selections before her, studying them with a small frown of assessment. "I just thought I might try something."

Grace nodded, her eyes following Willow's back to the specific herbs and plant roots her hands were slowly picking over. "If you're looking to work with calming, mental protection aids, you might want to also consider Ash bark." She reached over to produce a small bag of splintered wood from the shelf. "And Silverweed is good for invoking sleep and dream spells especially."

An almost shiver shook the girl's shoulders.

"And if you don't want to dream?"

She spoke so softly, Grace wasn't sure if she was meant to reply or not. She gave a small smile of solemn understanding. "Nightmares?"

She didn't look up. "Something like that."

Reluctantly taking the cue that she didn't want to talk about it, Grace moved towards the back of the shop. "I'll check if we have any amethyst left. It's a popular choice but you might be lucky. Be right back."

Willow nodded absently as the store assistant disappeared amongst the book cases and tables behind her. Turning the ingredients over in her hands, she tried to think if she needed anything else. It was a relatively simple spell and didn't require much but she hoped it might prove effective. Even if it only helped a little, it would be worth it. She was so tired of fighting them alone.

She walked further along the row, bending down and stretching up as she explored, making a mental inventory of possible supplies. It never hurt to be prepared. The sun shifted outside, sending streams of faint light across the shop's hardwood floor. A bright glint drew her eye to the far wall as something there caught the rays, flashing like a blinking lighthouse.

Her eyes slowly widened as she approached the object, her heart fluttering with the surge of memories. She stopped just short and simply stared, fixated on the innocent orb that sat there, oblivious to her almost reverent gaze. She recognised all too vividly the delicate glass sphere before her, which she already knew was deceptively heavy and would fit comfortably in the palm of her hand if she picked it up. Anyone could be mistaken in thinking it merely another decorative paper weight, but Willow knew better. Jenny had known better. And Angel had killed her for it. A fate the young witch could have easily shared for daring to attempt the same ancient, forgotten magic. She had never seen another one since that day.

Her breath quickened slightly, pounding through her head as she stared into the faintly white interior. She moved slowly as though in a hypnotic dream, her fingers stretching out to tentatively touch the cool, smooth surface.

Her skin had barely made contact when she glimpsed it. A golden pulsing light sparked through the globe; scorching the empty sky inside with a bright, glowing energy that spread from the centre out. It lasted only for a blink of an eye before Willow yanked her hand back so sharply she almost knocked the fragile ball to the floor.

Forcing her breathing even again, she quickly glanced her hand over, unsure what she was checking for. Maybe burn marks or something. She narrowed her eyes at the small sphere that looked exactly like it had a few seconds before, all clear and calm and so utterly normal looking that Willow doubted anything had happened at all. Her mind wasn't really something she could trust that well recently.

She was still staring suspiciously at the glass ball when Grace rejoined her.

"It's an Orb of Thesulah_,"_ she offered pleasantly, nodding towards what had captivated Willow's attention so. "Pretty thing but practically useless. The texts it relates to are untranslatable and lost to time I'm afraid." She shook her head sadly. "It's really is shocking how much of our magical heritage is allowed to fall out of knowledge."

Willow had to hide a smirk at that. Lost, yes - but not incapable of being re-discovered. It just took the right determination and the brilliant mind of a certain techno-pagan. Plus a whole lot of tragedy and dumb luck. This Wicca already knew far more about the Orb of Thesulah than she'd ever really wanted to. But now she had a new question.

She chewed her lip hesitantly before blurting it out. "Um, I don't suppose you know but - has it ever, sorta… does it ever… glow? I mean like just a random spark out the blue?" Seeing the blank frown on Grace's face she added, "I just thought I saw something when I touched it, that's all."

"Hmm. Not that I've heard of. They're just obsolete relics now, there's no power left in them." Grace's gaze turned speculative as she regarded the redhead beside her. "Have you ever come into contact with one of these before?"

She was almost sure the girl flinched this time before she quickly shook her head. "Nope. Never. I just thought it looked nice. Never mind; was probably just a trick of the light or something."

Shaking the unexpected blast from the past out of her head, Willow tore her gaze away and took the small violet gemstone Grace held out with a smile of thanks. The quartz was about half the size of her thumb and rubbed smooth into a flat pendent, but would serve well enough for her purposes. Gathering up the rest of her spell supplies, she followed the older woman back to the till where she also purchased five handy-sized bottles of holy water to add to their stock.

Grace continued to cast curious glances at the girl who chatted away with a bright smile across the counter. She couldn't put her finger on it - she wasn't nearly advanced enough - but something was out of place about the young witch; something didn't quite belong. Her aura was undeniably strong and quietly powerful, but it was strange - almost like it was slightly out of focus, blurred around the edges; colours laid on top of each other in a swirling tempest of raw energy.

And there was something else; something that was pulling and tugging insistently at the back of Grace's mind as she watched the girl push some of that blood-red hair behind her ear and pick the bag off the countertop.

"Well, thanks very much. I'd better get going."

"Yeah…" Grace watched the teenager head towards the exit, lost in thought, before she stepped around the counter and called out. "I'm sorry, but—" she paused as Willow turned back around at the open door. The older Wicca tilted her head slightly and gave her an appraising look. "Are you sure you haven't shopped here before? Your face looks so familiar."

The girl gave a quick nervous laugh, her feet almost stumbling as she backed out over the threshold. She flashed a careless smile before disappearing into the late day sun that spilled over her. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

o0o

Giles watched the shadows shift over Jenny's face as she clicked the phone down. Silence fell as the two staff members digested their own thoughts. Slowly, she turned to face him where he stood behind her; having emerged from his office mid-way through her conversation.

"Willow says 'hi'."

He nodded distractedly, looking down at the frames of his glasses as he rubbed the lenses on his blazer for what had to be the tenth time that hour. "You didn't tell her then."

Jenny crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows in challenge. "What, you think I should have?"

Giles let out a deep sigh. "We're going to have to tell them what's happening eventually. We don't know how much time we've got."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, we can't be sure—"

He shook his head, brushing aside her argument. "All the signs are pointing to this time, this place. And if the Master succeeds in opening a Gateway—"

"Is that all we're basing this on?" she snapped, harder than she'd intended. "Vague portents and speculations?"

"Jenny," he looked over to meet her steely gaze, words slow and deliberate. "You've read the same texts I have. You know what's coming."

Her expression changed, softening in mutual understanding but losing none of the determination. She unfolded her arms in a gesture of compromise. "Then we'll deal with it. We've got time – we do. We'll be ready."

Those simple words of affirmation carried more consequences than either adult cared to contemplate. Giles rubbed a hand down his face, his shoulders hunching with a shuddering sigh as he mumbled into his palm. "They're just kids. How can I ask them to fight this?"

She smiled sadly. "You don't. All we can do is give them the freedom to choose. They can all walk away at any time but, Rupert - you can't force them to. They've already done extraordinary things. Have faith in them."

"Oh, I do. And I know they're remarkable, but this world doesn't take kindly to heroes. They're in my care, my responsibility… and I keep failing them." He found her dark, exotic eyes and silently pleaded to the gentle wisdom there. His voice cracked with exhaustion. "I can't lose any more of them, Jenny."

He could see them all. Every lost face, every tragic cost; Rose with her hard blue eyes and headphones that were forever around her neck - stabbed through the ribs with her own stake as she walked home. Robin, who hid behind a cocky grin and a quick wit - tortured and finally turned in a sadistic game by the Master's favourite henchmen. He had fallen for the second time by Giles's own hand, five days later. Steph's dry humour and tattered Asian comic books that she loved to read - drained in the middle of a bitter fight before any of them had a chance to realise. Even the Slayer; pulled here by his demand only to fall along with so many others, one vicious twist snapping through her fragile neck. Larry's gruff laugh and kind heart - cut down and pulled apart in an attack by the side of the street. It went on and on. It never stopped.

Jenny could only watch him crumple before her, helpless to assure him differently. There were no promises she could make that they'd be allowed to keep. She walked over and pulled him into her arms; letting him cave in to human frailty, if only for a moment. It wrenched somewhere deep in her heart to see this wonderful man tear himself apart like this. She could see with frightening clarity how the burdens he carried were slowly killing him. Her hand gripped the back of his neck with all the silent conviction of the words she couldn't say.

With a steady breath, she forced herself to pull back and meet his eyes sternly. "We'll work through this. We'll do everything we can to protect them, but to do that we need to have a stronger picture of what's actually going on and then prepare for it. There's no point dragging them in before we have to; they have enough going on just now. And there's no way I'm having Willow rush back here in a panic on the first day I've managed to get her head out of the Hellmouth in weeks." She grinned and gave his hair a playful ruffle. "As if I didn't have my hands full enough with _you_."

He didn't respond to the affectionate tease as she'd hoped. Her own smile faded as she saw his eyes darken in pain before they abruptly dropped from hers and he moved away from her embrace.

"She shouldn't be a part of this at all."

"Yeah well, good luck trying to tell her that. Anyway, it's beside the point now isn't it? She's as much a part of events now as we are."

"No."

She started a little at the sudden force in his voice. There was note of finality in his tone that sparked a fire of unease in her mind.

"It isn't right. This isn't her battle and I won't let her fight it."

"And just how do you intend to stop her? Really, I'm curious. 'Cause you should know that she's a very gifted witch despite her youth and with a fiery temperament to match. Hardly a fair fight."

"For God's sake, Jenny - she's got a _family_ somewhere out there! Another life full of people who love her and have no idea what's happened to her! If you think I'm going to let her stupidly risk her life in a hopeless war that she was never meant to be involved with in the first place… I won't be responsible for her dying like that - an anonymous stranger alone in a foreign world; robbing her of any chance of ever getting back to them. I won't destroy all those lives. I- I can't."

Heavy silence reigned in the wake of Giles's outburst. Apprehension pulled in the pit of her stomach as her eyes remained locked on his averted face. "What are you going to do?"

He lifted his head but didn't meet her gaze. "I'm going to make sure she's safe. Maybe I'll manage to get someone out of here alive, even if it's just one. I'm going to find a way to get her home."

Jenny said nothing; lips pressed together in thought and expression closed off as she watched him turn back into the office. The quiet words echoed in her mind but she found she could summon none in response. She leant into the counter and took deep breath to clear her head, but found it was beyond organisation at this moment.

The shrill echo of the bell abruptly sounded through the now quiet library. The teacher straightened and swore quickly. Wonderful; she was late for her own class.

~o~

* * *

**AN**: Three guesses who the Master's favourite henchmen were. So, a bit more background to the history of the Wishverse and what life was like before our Willow joined. For the eagle-eyed reader you might have noticed this chapter included another reference to Alice in Wonderland; it just seems an apt reference for some aspects of Willow's journey. Yeah, a possible demon touch in the English Civil War...what can I say? Hey, you never know. And the different moralities of war and political revolutions is interesting to me, plus Willow's being very reflective just now. Turning your life upside down can do that. She's still very homesick at the heart of everything. More Oz-missage. And I enjoyed the chance to fill in some of the blanks of their last summer in the Buffyverse, just (relatively) normal life for the Scoobies. It would be interesting to see the dynamics of the group during that time without Buffy.

Ah, the Magic shop. Darker, just like everything else in that world, and just a little tempting. Yes, that's all I'm saying.

Giles and Jenny. I do love a cliffe. Even if it makes you hate me.

**Reviews are warm milk and chocolate biscuits after a long day.**


	24. Chapter Twenty Two

Returning to my stories is the only thing that makes coming back from holiday bearable. I could happily write all day and never step foot in my office again. Oh well. Anyway, here is the next chapter for all my patient readers. Thanks so much for all the reviews! Only 10 away from 100! (Not that I'm counting or anything.) Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Willow ran her fingers distractedly through her hair, making the red tangles rumple messily and giving her the slight appearance of one who had just got out of bed. Her features creased in concentration as sharp eyes darted across the screen. Even as the cyber chat of the Wiccan site filtered through her mind, the witch's thoughts were anything but focused.

The casualties of previous nights weighed heavily on the weary girl. They were fighting and training harder every day but each sunset brought more bodies. The vampires gloated and mocked each time they were just too few, too exhausted and too late to stop them. They were losing.

Willow quickly brushed off the weak moment. She couldn't afford to think like that. They'd find something; they always had before. Yet, a little voice murmured gloomily in the back of her head, they'd always had Buffy before. She suddenly thought how strong the others were, to have lived with this hopelessness hanging over their heads for so long and to still keep fighting. No, it wasn't hopeless she reminded herself – the forces of evil would be beaten back. Like always. Right?

Turning back to the information before her, the distracted Wicca rubbed at her tried eyes. Inspired by her research and chats with Jenny, she was keen to delve back into her magical studies as much as she was able to. So between the endless preparation and patrol, she had taken to scanning online sites and pouring over any volumes she could get her hands on. Curious for any spells she could work to their advantage, anything to help tip the scales in their favour. Her explorations had yielded several new rituals and charms she was eager to try out. Magic was like exercising a muscle in some ways; the more you practised, experimented and stretched your endurance, the stronger and easier to control it became. In her experience, channelling your energy into versatile power like that relied as much on physical strength as it did on mental and emotional. It was quite the cardio work-out when she thought about it. There was still so much she had to learn, and Willow was pretty excited about taking on the challenge.

She chewed the inside of her cheek as a small frown settled on her brow. Though…she might give it a few days before she visited the Magic shop again.

Leaning back in the stiff chair, she glanced over the small office she was currently sat in. Memories tugged at the corner of her mouth as echoes of past conversations whispered in her ear. Yet as much as she loved these walls, she couldn't deny the break the other day had done her good. She might have been getting just the tiniest bit obsessive with the research. Maybe. Just a little. She didn't want to make Giles look bad after all.

The library had kept a relatively safe sanctuary during the weeks she had been here. So much so that it had almost felt like old times. Willow would catch herself expecting to see Xander wander through the doors at any moment, flash that cheeky smile she adored and toss out a wildly inappropriate comment on the oppressive mood. The Watcher would sigh and despair at their inability to carry their duties with appropriate aplomb, as she tried not to giggle too loudly behind his back. Buffy would happily join in on the teasing before perching on the long table and filling them in on the latest bad she had faced off with.

The dreamy smile slipped off her face. She caught herself a split second before the first drop could escape her eyes. Every day, regret gained weight in her heart and her nights were tormented with unresolved conflict. She missed them. So much. Willow had sworn that she would try to stop dwelling on her decision, but had she been terribly naïve? People changed, lives changed. Nothing could ever stay the same; you could never go back to the way things were. Maybe some things were just never meant to be.

And now she had lost them. Her best friends in the whole world. She had done a flat-out exchange. Buffy and Xander for Oz. What kind of choice was that? It was impossible.

Willow stabbed a little too hard at the keys and shoved the mouse violently across the mat. Yet, it hadn't seemed like an impossible choice at the time. She had barely blinked at the life-changing sacrifice she had made. How could she have tossed it all away? Why didn't she stop and breathe; why didn't she take a moment to actually think about the consequences? Would… would she have changed her mind?

Her body flinched in silent objection.

Footsteps echoed through the main library floor, dragging a miserable Willow from her reverie. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the screen and tried to remember what she had been looking for.

"Willow? You about?"

"Michael. Everything alright?"

"Oh Giles, hey. Yeah, everything's cool, just looking for the bookworm."

She couldn't help but smile at that. Not so very long ago she would have been upset at the nickname and ashamed of her nerdy habits – but little reliable Willow was growing up and taking control. Another slice of Xander-missage cut through her at the note of affectionate teasing in the other boy's voice.

"_Goody! Research party!" _

"_Will, you need a life in the worst way." _

The smile died on her lips. If only she could speak to them once more. She never even said goodbye… Shaking herself out of the memory, she heard the librarian direct the inquirer towards her dungeon. Willow frowned as she realised how much she had commandeered Giles's office since her arrival. Oops.

"Hey! How's it going?"

Twisting in her chair, she smiled warmly at the boy who swung his lanky frame into the small room.

"Well, I think I'm going a little cross-eyed but on the upside, my translating skills are definitely improving." She cast a thoughtful glance at the stack of books beside her. "Though, it's a bit of an anti-climax when you spend the better part of an hour deciphering something, only to find out the guy was talking about the best conditions for growing mandrakes." She shrugged. "And you?"

Mike laughed and flung himself onto the sofa. The old leather sighed under the abrupt weight.

"Hey, sorry but you knew what you were signing up for! Welcome to the office job from Hell, and you're practically full-time. Giles should start paying you wages or something."

Willow smiled a little sheepishly. "Ha, yeah. Maybe I feel a little guilty getting my room and board for free. Besides, I like to feel useful. Someone's gotta help Giles keep track of all these different collections. Y'know for a librarian, he's got a terrible personal filing system. He should really have these coded by date and language and demon species…"

Mike shook his head with a grin. "You're such a geek."

She blushed faintly in embarrassment before sticking her tongue out at him, feeling childish. He laughed and Willow took the opportunity to change the subject. "How are the war-wounds healing anyway?"

"Yeah, good." The student touched a hand just below his ribcage experimentally. "Just a dull twinge now and then but other than that, all better. I swear I'll never doubt Miss Calendar and her weird and wonderful potions ever again. She definitely knows her stuff. Now, why don't they teach _that _kind of thing in school? A hell of a lot more useful than that stupid Pythagorous theory if you ask me."

Willow missed the rest of Mike's grumble about the school curriculum. A frown crossed her brow at the mention of her fellow Wicca. Jenny had been acting strange towards her ever since last night. Not unfriendly or anything but just distant, a little off. She had caught the teacher watching her a few times, expression a confusing mixture of concentration and troubled anxiety before she quickly covered it with a light smile. They still talked and laughed and exchanged ideas, but there was something about the way Jenny was avoiding her gaze, turning away with something that felt almost like guilt, that was making her uncomfortable. She didn't know what had changed, but the thought that she had somehow upset her friend was churning nervously inside her, and she only wished she knew what she'd done. Willow thought briefly of consulting Giles before reluctantly dropping the idea. He'd been a little weird around her today too…

"What about you?"

Willow started a little as Mike's voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up blankly for a second before her mind quickly caught up. "Oh," she glanced down at her hand, moving her fingers across her wrist as she twisted the joint gently. She had finally taken the bandage off last night and the bruise was now only a faint yellowish colour. "Yep, everything seems to be in working order."

"Cool. Hey, you alright?"

She looked over and quickly smiled, pushing aside her lingering worries. "Yeah, just…I dunno. Truthfully, think I'm getting a little bored. Stuck in here I mean. Kinda sucks being dead – but not." She slumped back in her chair and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "I mean I get why I have to hide and keep out the way…it's just, I'm beginning to feel a little like Bertha Mason." Catching the strikingly Xander-esque blank look on his face, Willow hastened to explain her random reference. "Cause y'know, Jane Eyre? The mad wife in the attic? Never mind, it-it was dumb. I'm in a weird mood today."

Mike shrugged and brightened up in response to Willow's glum expression.

"Oh, no it's not you. It's just - English Lit references? Lost on me. Oz is your man for that."

"Hmm?" Willow looked up with casual interest.

"Oh yeah." Mike pulled idly at the ragged cuff of his jeans. "Good at English, though he doesn't deserve to be. Pays even less attention than me from what I hear. But he always seems to test well somehow. Jerk."

Willow smirked at the muttered insult said with a grudging respect. She straightened her lips as he glanced up and over at her.

"You're not missing much in class, believe me. Besides, it's kinda cool - it's like you're our little secret!" He watched her raise her eyebrows and quickly assured; "Not in a creepy-stalker-obsessive way! More like… a secret weapon or something."

Willow blinked and burst out laughing. Mike grinned for a second before joining in, and for a moment the small office echoed with the sound of teenage mirth.

She had missed this. Getting to laugh over stupid things, feeling normal… having friends. Mike looked over at her and a strange look passed over his face. Willow caught his eye and her giggles slowly calmed, a questioning frown forming on her face. He shook himself.

"I'm sorry. It's just…you're so different. From her."

"Oh." Willow didn't know quite what to say to that. She thought she understood what he meant, but it was a subject they rarely broached. It was all still a little strange to think about. She fidgeted awkwardly. "Well, that's good. I mean, I'm glad not to be an evil vampire too. Not my idea of big fun."

"Yeah."

His face became unreadable. She watched him pick at the threads of his scuffed jeans, a little worried.

"Mike?"

He glanced up briefly before talking to the fraying fabric under his fingers.

"It's just…so weird to think that you and that - _thing -_ were once the same person. When, when you're…" he swallowed hard but still didn't look up. "…turned, you're really gone aren't you? Everything, is lost. The things they do…"

He trailed off into silence and Willow felt a shiver ripple over her skin. She looked sadly at the quiet boy, who looked so young all of a sudden. They were all just kids in the end; lost in a world full of monsters, forced to fight things that none of them could really understand. She wanted to tell him that she was scared too, that she had never been the strong one. She had followed but Buffy had led; she had never had to fix things all by herself. Willow wasn't a leader, she wasn't a big hero. She was just a girl fighting because the battle had to be fought, and she always would as long as there was something and someone to live for.

"I only saw her once."

His voice had dropped to almost a whisper as he finally met her eyes. The soft words cut through Willow as sharp as a blade. She drew back an inch but held his gaze.

"That night."

The statement hung between them for a long second as a little more of the picture suddenly clicked into place. But did she really want to see it? She'd never even thought about the possibility that he could've also been there that fateful night. A slick, cold feeling slid into the pit of her stomach. Finally she swallowed and broke the silence. "At the, the factory?" She felt the need to speak, to encourage him to keep talking. He clearly wanted to get it out and she was morbidly fascinated, despite herself.

He nodded tightly, his eyes becoming distant.

"I'd never seen _them_ before. Not up close. I mean I'd heard the stories and rumours, wild tales of people getting dragged off into the night by demons craving blood. I don't know…Things like that aren't supposed to exist in the real world. I guess it's so much easier to live in denial – no matter how blinkered and stupid and forced it is – when you don't have the proof of your nightmares, looking you right in the face and… smiling."

Willow's eyes widened as she soaked in every word. She saw the small shudder he attempted to hide at the memory. The memory of _her_; as she was, had been. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly at the thought of the sick pain she'd inflicted on her friend. Even if it wasn't _technically _her - like he'd said, they were one and the same in some ways. Once more she felt the tug of a connection she couldn't quite cut to her parallel self. She wanted so much to reach out and hug the boy who was hunched over on the couch, to apologise for everything she had and hadn't done until he hugged her back, but she knew he needed to finish.

Her brow pinched in empathy as she waited for him to find his voice. His words rang in her ears, sounding almost unreal. He'd watched her terrorize and murder helpless innocents; the vampire she once was here had mocked their imminent death right to their faces and delighted in their hopeless fear.

No wonder he had hated her.

She was suddenly amazed that he'd managed to put it behind him as quickly as he had; was able to differentiate between her and the demon that had nearly killed him. A soft ember lit up within her chest, warming her heart and blocking out the creeping chill for a single moment. He'd had every reason in the world to never trust her again.

"What, what happened?" she asked as gently as she could, horrified curiosity getting the better of her.

Mike hesitated before shifting to sit up. "They had us all in these cages, like livestock." His mouth hardened in a bitter line. "I suppose that's what we are to them. You- her," he quickly corrected himself before taking a deep breath. "She was up with the Master on this platform, along with that other one. They were overseeing everything."

Xander. Willow felt her knees tremble and was thankful she was sitting down. She wasn't sure she could listen to the story of how her best friend died.

Mike's eyes had glazed over slightly as he recounted the memory of that tragic night. "The factory floor was full of them, it felt like they were everywhere, and he was addressing them all like a politician at some kind of great ground-breaking ceremony. Going on about progress and technology and the future of their kind." His face twisted in an angry, mocking expression. "He was going to show them a better, more efficient and _civilised _way of slaughtering us."

Willow watched as the lines on his face slowly softened into bare emotion. "We didn't know what was happening but we knew we were going to die. They were going to kill us off one by one in demonstration of his great _vision_. The girl beside me couldn't stop crying…" He faltered as the scene absorbed his mind. He remembered that one girl so well. For some reason her terrified, mascara-streaked face and bright pink nail varnish was burned into his memory; a bright snapshot amid the panic and adrenaline that filled that night.

She'd found his eyes for one searing second; wide and questioning and almost accusing, before her boyfriend pulled her into his chest to muffle her hysterical sobs, edging them both as far away from the door as possible. Well, he had assumed he was her boyfriend. He could have been a classmate, or her brother, or even a complete stranger for all he knew. People did that; clinging to each other for desperate comfort in their dying moments. Human nature was a curious thing.

Snapping himself out of the vivid image, he brought his attention back to Willow, only to find her looking so upset at his words that he suddenly debated if he should stop altogether. This wasn't really fair. It wasn't her fault. None of that was her fault. But he could see the wrongful guilt welling in her eyes and it hurt him much more than it should have. "Will, maybe I—"

But she shook her head, interrupting his tentative objection. "No. Please?"

He knew she was asking for his permission to continue. It was his story and his decision at the end of the day. Mike sighed. He may well regret this.

"They..." He paused and cleared his throat, trying to keep himself grounded in the present against the violent pull of the past. He swallowed hard. "They opened the gate and pulled someone out, a girl. I-I think I'd seen her around school before, but we'd never spoken. I didn't even know her name. They shocked her with something…to paralyse her." A familiar nausea washed over him as echoes of screams and grasping hands filled his mind. He'd been just out of reach. It was a horrible feeling, failing to save someone as you tried to save yourself at the same time. "They placed her in this machine…they wanted the blood fresh…" An involuntary shudder ran through his body, and he wished for the hundredth time that he could just forget the whole nightmare. Why did he have to remember? Why did trauma have a way of imprinting itself on his mind with such gruesome clarity? "The machine, it injected all these needles, it…drained her…still alive. It only took seconds."

Willow clutched a hand around her arm, expression one of sickened horror. Mike quickly moved on, rushing to finish the depressing story. His jaw twitched with the haunted anger that crossed his face as he spoke. "They brought him a taste of blood they had just pulled out of her and he raised the glass and _toasted _their accomplishment. Like they were so proud of the bright future they were creating… and she was just lying there, completely still - _dead _. Like a piece of meat on that steel table."

'_The future! The future!' _

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced the voices back. He'd heard them enough through so many fitful nights since then, and the raging feeling of helplessness never really went away – no matter how many of them he managed to kill.

"Everything turned to chaos pretty quickly after that. I didn't really see what happened but suddenly people were shouting and scattering." He stared down at the floor between them and found he couldn't quite remember how this conversation had begun or what had possessed him to even think of dragging her down this wretched path with him. But it was too late now.

"I just remember that someone broke the gate and started pulling us out, trying to give us a chance to escape, I guess." He glanced up at her face. "Oh. Um...Angel, right?" Willow nodded mutely in confirmation, looking slightly dazed and a little pale.

"Didn't do much good. I suppose some chance is better than no chance at all, but all it did was send us straight into a massacre. There was too many of them, we were outnumbered and overpowered. People charged out, panicked and clumsy, and the vampires fell on us. Trapped and scared witless and struggling through a forest of limbs, we were pretty easy prey for them to pick off. It was like someone had rung a bell for feeding time."

He breathed out and clenched his hand into a fist to stop the shaking that was threatening to break over him. "I fell down behind a part of the machine in the trample. It was surreal. I could feel bodies at all sides, people running in all directions like no-one could find the way out. I couldn't tell who was fighting what, but people were dying everywhere I could see…"

Limp forms piling up around him as the vampires greedily drank their full. Occasional clouds of dusted bone and flesh that drifted through the scene. He never did see that girl with the pink nail varnish again.

"I just lay there." He looked to the other side of the room, his voice hard with self-reproach. "I hid. I couldn't move, I couldn't stop watching. It's true what they say about car crashes: it's morbidly compelling to see tragedy unfolding in front of you. Even though I could see it happening all around me, it felt kinda like a dream. Like I was only watching and wasn't really there. That's when _they_ jumped in."

_They. _Willow bit her tongue to keep from speaking his name. It wasn't really him; she had to remember that.

"I kept glimpsing this blonde girl through the riot. She was at the centre of the fight, the one they were heading towards. I mean, I'd never truly believed in real demons before then, so of course I'd never heard of anything like a Slayer. Giles only explained all that afterwards. Looking back, she was incredible. I'd never seen strength and speed and moves like that outside of movies. But I just remember thinking…she didn't look scared." Mike frowned softly. "She was surrounded by death, but she didn't seem to react to it at all. It was like she was just going through the motions, like she was resigned to it all." He shook his head. "I can't imagine that: ever becoming so used to something, so used to death and horror and loss, that it doesn't even faze you anymore. I dunno, it just seems like it's gotta be a really sad and empty way to live your life."

_And lonely_, Willow whispered to herself. Tears stung the back of her eyes, threatening to spill over and never stop. The thought of Buffy, _any _Buffy, having such a hollow and defeated view of the world, tore through Willow's heart like a bullet. She was under no illusions. Slaying was a rough gig. Buffy had said so herself that too much alone time wasn't healthy. Without friends to help share the darkness that duty brought; to balance the jaded anger with love and daft jokes; to confront you over mistakes and stand by your side regardless - that dangerous destiny could crush the light from the strongest of spirits.

She'd had no-one. No Willow and Xander to confide in and laugh and argue with. No Giles to annoy and lean on, to trust to keep her right. To live in that world full time was to risk losing yourself to it.

Her doubt and regret from earlier came crashing back, so strongly that it felt like a bruising weight pressing inside her chest. She suddenly wondered what had happened to Buffy's mom in this place. Where had she been for the Buffy here?

"She managed to fight them off for a while. But when those two joined the fray, things went from bad to worse. They were brutal; they just seemed to be so much – stronger than the others. I saw him going for her…but I didn't see much after that."

"Mike."

He looked back at the sound of his name, gentle but firm, and resisted the urge to sigh in defeat. She wasn't going to let him spare her. He knew what that monstrous vampire had once been to her; a bond they had clearly retained in this reality, as warped and depraved as it had become, it had been hard for him to miss even during that short time he had watched them. For a moment he considered holding onto the omission and riding it out, she couldn't _make_ him break his silence after all, but for some reason he found himself lacking the strength of will to lie to her. At least he'd given her the chance to make the call for herself. So be it.

"I didn't see a lot of their fight…but I saw her…she managed to stake him straight through when he came back at her."

Not knowing what else he could say that wouldn't betray his conflicting feelings on the event, he looked away, giving her the privacy to absorb her own pain.

Willow blinked slowly and realized she couldn't feel her toes. It was one thing to know her childhood friend had been a vampire here and died in a bloody fight months before her appearance in this world; it was quite another to know her other best friend had been the one to kill him. This universe sure had a sadly fitting sense of irony.

How could everything be the same here but so, so different? Buffy, a cold and hardened Slayer who'd not thought twice as she struck down just another vampire, never knowing that in another life, he was one of the greatest friends she could have ever wished for. This world had robbed them all of so much.

She curled her numb toes, but otherwise stayed perfectly still. The story wasn't over and she was determined to hear it out to the end.

"How did you get out?"

Mike jerked slightly as he turned back, as if her question had taken him by surprise.

"With difficulty," he said dryly. "The next thing I knew, I was being hauled up from the floor - I'd been found. I only caught a flash of amber eyes and teeth as he came looming towards my neck…I was too terrified to move and I couldn't catch my balance anyway to even try. It sounded like a wild animal in my ear and I just remember thinking: this was it...I was going to die, and stupidly wishing against hope that it wouldn't hurt, though I knew it could only be drawn-out agony."

His voice cracked quietly before he shook his head and sat up. He could feel Willow's eyes on him but didn't look her way, instead studying the old, oil painting on the office wall across from him. Some kind of sleepy river scene: full of green trees, patchwork fields and rolling hills hiding the odd church spire in the distance. Very English countryside. It dimly occurred to him that Giles was just outside those walls, working away in his library. The thought was somewhat comforting.

He heard the desk chair creak restlessly and reluctantly focused his attention back on the conversation.

"Obviously it wasn't to be though. Not just then anyway." He tried to shrug but it fell pathetically short. "I was shoved aside as someone else pried me from his grip and took my place. But at least they actually knew what they were doing." He managed a wry but genuine smile. The violent struggle had lasted several precarious moments before one practiced swipe cut through the vampire's chest and his rescuer had emerged, breathless and bleeding, from the cloud of dead ash.

"Oz saved my life that night, but I like to think I've repaid the debt at least a few times since then." He caught Willow's eye and she gave a shaky smile. "'Course I didn't know who the hell he was then and it wasn't exactly a time for introductions, as he rushed off across the room barely a second later."

Mike hesitated, his gaze flickering nervously away from Willow as the returning memory hit him hard. This was a part of the story he'd intended to gloss over but he wasn't sure that was an option anymore.

He was right. She was too quick at picking up things and he'd been too slow to cover his hesitation. Her eyes narrowed shrewdly in concern.

"What happened to him? Did you see?"

Oh, he saw alright. And he never thought the memory would cause him to feel anything but relief. Boy, this was confusing.

"Nothing, he was fine."

Mike looked to her face before he could stop himself, and winced. That was definitely the wrong reaction. Her brow furrowed and he could almost see the realisation slipping into place inside that wonderfully sharp mind of hers. He mentally kicked himself.

"Giles said I…" She looked up and fixed him with a piercing stare. "Mike, where was _she_?"

Mike held her gaze for as long as he could before finally breaking. He dropped his head and swallowed hard in his throat. The silence was deafening.

"Oh."

Her voice was soft with something almost like wonder. Oz. Wow, that was weird…and yet not. It actually felt oddly fitting. Like it was right, how things were meant to happen: a mirror act tying them together beyond either of their knowledge and across worlds. And again with the universe's ironic quirks, its strange and almost connective twists. Maybe life wasn't as random as it sometimes seemed.

That was certainly something everyone had neglected to tell her. Though, admittedly, it was a bit of a conversation killer. But at least now she knew how her parallel, vampire doppleganger had met her end – in some strange way, she felt she owed her that. Closure? Did that even make sense?

And somehow, the fact that it had been him brought a sense of peaceful purpose that she hadn't quite felt before. It was funny, but she was glad Oz had been the one to do it.

She smirked to herself. Well, at least that made them even.

Eventually she became aware of Mike watching her nervously. She smiled weakly and gave him a small nod to show she was okay with the revelation she had just learned; that she didn't hold it against them. A look of relief crossed his face and his shoulders relaxed an inch.

"Are you okay?"

"Me?" Mike eyed her in surprise. "Yeah. Yeah…It's just, hard to re-live it. Out loud. Guess I've not really taken the time to deal with this stuff properly." He saw Willow open her mouth to apologise and quickly added, "No, it's okay. It's just rough 'cause I've never really talked about it much, kind of stuck with the 'keep quiet and hope it goes away' theory. But it's probably good to discuss it, yeah?"

Willow smiled sadly. "Yeah."

"If it hadn't been for Oz and Larry, I wouldn't have survived that night at all. I was still stumbling about in the chaos when Larry grabbed me by the shoulder and pushed me ahead of him. Shouting at me to follow Oz. The Master was busy fighting the Slayer and…" He cut himself off and pretended not to notice Willow flinch at his slip. He looked at her apologetically.

He remembered fighting his way through the factory, blindly hurrying after the only people who seemed to know their way around; dodging struggling forms and throwing off snarling bodies as they pushed past old storage and industry clutter. When they had burst out that door, falling into that pitch-dark side alley, the terror and relief had nearly floored him. All the noise was still echoing faintly from inside the building they had somehow miraculously escaped from, but it was no longer pounding in his ears. He had gulped in the fresh, cool night air like it was water; let it wash the nauseous smell of spilt blood from his head. He'd soaked in the black night sky, willing it to drive the images from his mind, to tell him that none of that had really happened.

_'We have to keep moving. They'll be coming…'_

"I was one of the lucky ones. Well that's what I just kept telling myself afterwards. When I couldn't sleep; when I didn't know how I was supposed to carry on as normal when the world had changed beyond all understanding; when I saw the empty desks in school; when I tried to tell my parents what was going on…"

He trailed off, features hardening in revisited frustration. People's capacity for protective denial was incredible. He should have known - after all, he'd been like that for long enough - but he'd quickly realised that once your eyes were opened to reality, it was impossible to shut them and become blind again. The blood on his clothes, the fear in his face, the endless disappearances and curfew laws – and still they dismissed his story. He loved his parents, he wanted to keep them safe, but their gently concerned and persistent dismissal had nearly broken him.

In the end he'd given up trying, just as suggestions of therapy had started to creep into conversations.

"I knew I needed to do something, I couldn't handle living through that and being slave to helpless fear for the rest of my life. I couldn't see that and do nothing. Maybe only half a dozen of us had got out of there alive…"

He stared at his fingers as they flexed around his leg, knuckles stained white with tension. As he watched, a slender hand softly closed over his trembling fist. He blinked. When had she joined him on the couch? Asking the question to himself and finding that he didn't care, he shifted his hand to catch hers and looked up. Her gentle green eyes were shining with private pain behind the tentative smile of understanding. She was hurting just as much as him. Mike recoiled from the thought that he was responsible for causing that sadness; but she wasn't blaming him, just as he couldn't blame her. He suddenly thought how this must have been for her, to hear how her friends had fought and died from someone who had actually seen it. They were just demons and strangers to him, but they had been family to her.

He squeezed her hand, not knowing what other comfort he could possibly offer someone who had lost so much. She returned it with a watery smile.

"So you found Giles," she offered quietly.

"Yeah. To start with I was just frustrated. No-one believed me and I didn't know what to do. I finally thought of Oz. He had known. He'd seen it and lived through it too. He had known how to fight them and he'd saved my life. If I wanted to know what was going on, if I wanted to help, I had to find him and the others who were doing something about it."

"The Scooby Gang," Willow whispered fondly under her breath, her eyes misty with memories. It was nice to know some things endured, in some kind of form.

The adopted nick-name was lost on Mike, who only gave a confused glance before continuing. "So Oz took me to Giles and when I made it clear I wanted to know everything and I wanted to fight, he did the typical Giles thing and launched into an afternoon-long lecture on the history of the Hellmouth, vampires, demons, the Master and the Slayers. I think he might have taken the 'everything' a little too literally."

The two exchanged a long-suffering smile. Even the most interesting of subjects were absorbed best in bite-size chunks. Even Willow, ever the studious learner, had her limits.

"In the beginning though, I was still so angry. At everything. At my parents for not believing me; at my friends for being too scared to fight; at Giles and Oz and Larry, as if they should have told me long ago; at the vampires for existing when nothing like that should; for everything that had happened in the factory…" Mike sighed, his eyes turning to the office door. "'Survivor's guilt', Giles called it. Quite common, so I'm told."

The two friends sat in silence then, emotionally exhausted and finally out of words. The touch of their hands the only thing tying them both to the physical present.

Willow moved first. Reaching out with a tentative touch, she drew them both together in a gentle hug. She locked her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder, unbelievably grateful when she felt him wrap his arms around her back and return the embrace.

"I'm so sorry."

He shook his head. "It wasn't…you."

Her eyes burned hot. "None of this was meant to happen. I just…I wish-"

She felt him sigh against her chest. "It's okay. Life happens how it happens. We just have to deal with what we get. Wishing can't change that. It's okay."

Willow swallowed back the bitter laugh. He wasn't meant to be trying to comfort her – she didn't deserve it. Not after what she'd done. This wasn't fair.

He must have felt her tremble, as his arms tightened around her in silent assurance and heart-felt apology. She gripped him back, with the same need with which she had held onto her friends so many times before.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she sent a wave of love to her lost best friends, locked away but still breathing back in her home universe, wishing somehow it would find them again. To let them know one last time.

She sniffed and quickly wiped her eyes as they pulled apart. "I-" She cleared her throat and looked down at the couch they sat on. "I can't imagine what it must have been like: to have lived in this world for all these years; to lose…so many." She looked up and caught his gaze. "How do you do it? How do you keep going?"

Mike looked thoughtful as he worded his answer. "I suppose…the same way you do. For the same kind of reasons."

Willow nodded slowly. "It's a good fight," she mumbled softly.

She glanced across the office to the empty desk, covered with research, the flickering computer screen she had stared at all morning. Yeah, it was worth it. That's why they didn't give up: because they couldn't. Hope was the human condition, after all.

"Are you going to leave?"

Willow started at the abrupt question, jerking back to look at him. "W-What do you mean?"

"I mean if Giles, if they find a way to get you back to your own world – you're going to go, right? Anywhere's got to be better than here." He looked away, eyes dark with conflict. "And if you were never meant to be here in the first place then maybe…maybe it would be best…"

Willow's heart was jumping like it was trying to break out her chest; the instinctive reaction independent from her rational thoughts. Her tangled doubts echoed in her mind. Buffy, Xander, Oz…Where was home? Did it even matter now? The decision had been made and wasn't reversible. She wouldn't be strong enough to make the choice again anyway.

But they didn't know that. Were they still looking for a way to send her away? It had gone so long now without being really mentioned, she'd kind of hoped Giles had forgotten about it for good. If they forced her hand, she'd have no choice but to tell the truth, whether she was ready or not. But what if it really was an option? What if she could undo the deal, reverse the exchange and get back… Willow swallowed down a groan of frustration. There was no use thinking about that. She'd deal with that burnt bridge when she came to it.

"I-I don't know," she admitted. "I mean…it doesn't look so likely at the moment."

He frowned. "But, what will you do? If you really are stuck here I mean." He considered the possibility for a moment. "I mean, will you try to join classes and graduate or what?"

"Um…"

Ohh, she really didn't want to dig up these worries again, yet the questions kept coming back. Hiding out in the library was only ever going to be a stopgap solution. Eventually she was going to have to think of the bigger picture. Her future. What would she do? A death certificate on her official record wasn't exactly a great start to building a new life. Not graduating…she wouldn't even have a high-school diploma! Willow Rosenberg without any qualifications. No college, no job at MIT, nothing. In her old life, it wouldn't have been possible. She had always been the one with the plan - she knew where she was going - Xander and Jesse had been the drifters. They'd always joked that she'd had her majors picked out since Kindergarten. Now her priorities were all scrambled, her future was a big question mark, nothing was certain anymore and…and it was giving her a headache.

Mike was watching her curiously as she offered him a weak shrug. "Got me. Guess I'll have to wing it."

He raised an eyebrow, mouth curving in a grin. "That could be fun."

Their peaceful privacy was broken as the glass door was pushed open and a familiar head poked inside.

"Excuse me-"

Willow nearly rolled her eyes affectionately at Giles apologizing for entering his own office. The librarian looked to Mike pointedly.

"But I feel it falls under my School Staff obligations to remind you, you have a class starting in ten minutes."

"Yep, I'm all over that, trust me."

Giles hesitated for a second before seemingly determining that the student's response was in the affirmative, and with a nod he let himself back out.

"Typical that it would be computer science with Miss Calendar," Mike complained in an under-voice to Willow. "That's the only class schedule he actually knows."

She laughed as they both stood up from the couch.

"Thanks. For you know…letting me depress you," he said with an embarrassed shrug.

"Anytime," she said sincerely.

Mike looked towards the door then back, as if he was debating something. "Hey, um," he blurted. "I meant to say thanks again for the video." He grinned cheerily for the first real time since he had told the story of the night her double had been killed. "Nice pick, classic Carrey. Ever seen it?"

"Once, I think. When it first came out." If she remembered correctly, Xander had dragged her to the movies to watch it. Goofy, comic-like films were a favourite of his. She smiled softly at the memory.

"Well," Mike scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "If you ever, I dunno, fancy catching a repeat – you're always welcome to come over to mine. No big deal, just if you ever felt like a break or something, y'know."

"Oh." Willow stuttered, caught by surprise. "Cool, great, I-I mean, thanks. For the offer, I mean."

He gave a shy grin. "Hey, no problem. Well, I'd better get to class before Giles rats me out."

Willow nodded vaguely as she watched him leave the office, leaving her alone with her research again.

This wasn't a big deal. That's what he'd said, right? Friends invited friends over all the time. She'd spent most of her life over at Xander's, hanging out and watching TV, and it had never meant anything more (much to her disappointment at the time, but that wasn't the point) and ditto Jesse. It was fine. This was just like that. She slumped back into the desk chair and sighed. Except it wasn't. Ugh. Stupid, unforeseen complications - as if her life wasn't messed up enough!

This was bad. If she had been back in her old life, she could have done some damage control by asking Buffy to come too, help with re-enforcing the 'friends' message, but that wasn't really an option here. She couldn't really envisage Annie being up for movie-nights full stop, let alone anywhere near Willow and definitely not as supportive friend back up.

There was no way she could go over there just the two of them. Not like this. She couldn't take the risk. It was just the wrong message. But she liked Mike, a lot. She really didn't want to hurt him or push him away. She had so few friends here and there was no denying he meant something special to her. The thought of losing his friendship was like a stone sinking through her chest.

Damn it! She sure hadn't seen this coming and now she didn't know quite how to handle it. Avoidance and feigning ignorance would only get her so far, depending on how he reacted. _Oh, Mike, why did you have to make things even more complicated? If you only knew the truth of all this. _How many more people would she have to hurt to follow her heart?

Willow gripped her hair and groaned into her hands.

_Crap_.

o0o

Three hours 'til sunset.

Oz's pen tapped against the crumpled page of his textbook in an uncharacteristic display of anxiety. He seemed to notice this and with a sharp breath, the twitching hand was brought back under control.

His features were carefully composed into the usual blank expression of mild boredom that History class normally evoked. It wasn't that he didn't find history interesting… Well, he was pretty sure it _could _be interesting, and the class could even have proved a welcome distraction if he could be bothered to concentrate. But all of these facts were rendered irrelevant by the one big factor that Oz had already sat this exact topic in the same history class last year. Just one of the perks of failing to graduate. His absentee habits had finally caught up to him.

Still, he considered it a pretty big achievement that he was even still alive to be able to re-sit another pointless year. Another year on the Hellmouth. It wasn't like he had anywhere to go anyway.

It was just hard to get motivated about homework and class stats in the big scheme of things. Mind you, school wasn't really his thing to begin with. Staying alive was hard enough. And if the Hellmouth had its way, they may not have to worry about that much longer either. To be honest, class tests ranked quite low on their priorities. Yet the mundane seemed to find a way to push on regardless of the exceptional peril in which it existed. He supposed there was something almost admirable about that. Maybe; if you squinted. Mainly it was just a pointless distraction.

The burning sun dropped a fraction lower in the hot California sky. His body tensed instinctively, a primal shiver jolting through his system. Mr Jenkinson jabbed the chalk against the blackboard in emphasis of whatever point he was making. Tiny flecks burst free in a small shower of powder. At the back of the classroom, the fragments of chalk tickled his sensitive nose, almost making him sneeze.

Oz rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. The boy two rows in front of him was itching for a smoke; the lingering stench of tobacco staining his clothes and hair made his desire clear to read. He wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant smell.

Gripped with the rising impulse to stand up and get the hell out of this enclosed space, he quickly tightened his hand around the edge of the desk in restraint. The sensation of being trapped in close quarters with people was not an encouraging one, as hundreds of scents continued to invade his supernatural senses, putting his already tensely wired body on edge. The predator clawed under his skin and at the back of his mind, nudging him with violent instincts that weren't his own. The wolf felt cornered, forced to be still when it all it wanted to do was run, to protect itself against the human threat that surrounded it. Oz twisted his head away and leaned back in his chair in an effort to simulate his usual ease.

Inside he was far from composed. The normally settled waters of his mind were churning in frantic waves as the pull of the animal that lurked inside him all the time, fought its way to the surface, ready to claim his body and consume his mind with a darkness he was helpless to escape from.

Two hours, forty-five minutes until he lost all control. Until he became just as bad as the monsters he spent every other night fighting.

Flipping the crinkled page to the next chapter a full minute after his classmates, the lean teenager resumed his slouched position. Distant sharp green eyes were miles away from the glum classroom setting. Contemplating what was coming, fighting the inevitable.

The bookcage awaited.

* * *

**AN **So, Mike V Oz. Any thoughts?


	25. Chapter Twenty Three

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

The TV screen blinked with a succession of garbled images as it jumped from channel to channel with frenetic speed. Finally, with a bored sigh, Annie snapped it off and flung the remote onto the empty couch cushion beside her.

She hated being home.

Feeling uneasy in the sudden quiet, she sprang up off the sofa and headed into the kitchen. She may as well eat something since she was stuck here until sunset anyway. A quick glance into the fridge revealed a packet of coffee beans, week-old milk, a lonely yogurt carton, some limp lettuce and a jar of raspberry jam. Okay, peanut butter and jam sandwich it was. She grabbed the jar and dropped it onto the counter before turning to pull out the last slices of bread from the pantry. She really was well overdue to do another grocery shop. And pay the bills come to think of it, a domestic chore that she deeply loathed.

It wasn't that she didn't have the money. She had nothing _but_ money now, and she'd gladly give it all back if it would've made any difference. She was hardly even here if she could help it anyway; only to crash and shower and waste away the daylight hours when she was too weary to drag herself back outside. Sometimes she thought of selling the place. She knew she could make a decent deal on it, there were always people looking to snap up bargains despite the lack lustre real-estate market in Sunnydale. But the impulse never lasted long. Deep down, she wasn't quite ready to let go of this pile of bricks just yet.

It was just…too big. Sometimes she felt as if she rattled around the building like a discarded thought or forgotten loose-end, the empty space seeming to press down on her with a hollow but crushing weight. She twisted the lid off the jam a little too harshly. It clattered sharply as it hit the surface and she plunged the knife into the puréed fruit. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to relax. The sooner she got out of here the better.

The days were so damn long now and she struggled to fill the waiting time. She'd never been one for excessive sleeping, except for sometimes after a particularly gruelling patrol. She was impatient by nature and her body was always demanding some kind of activity, something to keep her mind occupied and energy focused. Usually she settled for going for a run as soon as she got up and not coming back until well after lunch, but for some reason she hadn't felt like it this morning. That was probably why she was feeling extra angsty now.

Plus, there might be a little bit of guilt mixed in there too. She brushed aside a lock of hair with the back of her hand and sighed. She hated to admit it, but as much as she tended to make a big deal of wanting to be left alone, the truth was that in the end, she didn't do so great with the silence. It loomed out of the stillness to prey on her mind, stirring up old demons and turning her unstable emotions into her own worst enemy. Like an ungrateful friend you turned to in search of solace, only to find spiteful mockery instead.

Isolation wasn't generally a healthy thing to crave, yet old habits were hard to break. It all felt part of a persona that wasn't really her. But the girl it had once protected was long gone, and now it was all she knew. She grimaced slightly as she recalled her drama-queen storm off the other night in the library. Mike didn't deserve to get snapped at like that. Yep, guilt was a bitch. Maybe she could try blaming it on PMS.

She'd been a bit of a bitter pill lately, with all of them. She knew that. Didn't mean she was about to apologise or anything, but perhaps she could stand to bite her tongue and curb her temper a bit more sometimes. She just had to find another outlet for her frustration instead of taking it out on the only stubborn people who still cared about her. More fool them. She nodded absently to herself. Yeah, she could do that. Well, she would definitely aim to_ try_ to do that. That was a start, right?

She didn't always have such an attitude; it wasn't as if she_ liked_ pissing off her friends, but unresolved suspicion tended to make her more than usually moody. It wasn't only her tongue that was sharp; Annie didn't miss much full stop. And she could see it now: how everything was changing, much too quick for comfort; the new tensions and inexplicable loyalties; how the familiar dynamic she had known so well was being upset -- and she didn't like it. They were playing in dangerously deceptive waters and it could only end badly. They were going to get hurt, one way or another. Why couldn't they see that?

She spread the thick peanut butter over the bread in thoughtful patterns. Annoyingly, Annie still didn't have a good handle on their lingering visitor, but the _wrongness _she felt in her gut was all the justification she needed. The whole vampire thing, the complete lack of answers surrounding her abrupt appearance, her reluctant and guarded manner, the effect she seemed to have on the others, and she was a _witch _on top of that? No, sorry; it just didn't add up to anything good, no matter what way you twisted. There was something else going on with all this. That girl knew so much more than she was telling and someone with that many secrets could only be trouble.

She couldn't make up for what had happened in their world. No matter how hard she tried to pretend she was one of them, it would never be true. And the longer she stayed, the worse the damage would be. Annie slammed the sandwich together in punctuation to her thought, and dropped it onto the plate.

Blowing out a long breath, the young woman carefully let go of the tense worry that had built up in her body. There was a time and a place for those concerns and right now she had other commitments to take care of. Her eyes swivelled to the black and silver clock on the wall over her shoulder. She still had some time to kill. Turning back to the counter, she replaced the lids of the butter and jam and shoved the spread back into the fridge. She pulled open the cupboard above her and as she blindly reached up to store the jars, something fell down from between the jostling tins and onto her head. Annie shook a hand through her hair in irritation and looked down to see what had fallen, secretly pleading that it wasn't a cockroach or anything.

It took her eyes a second to find it, but the rush of ice that shot through her heart was instantly familiar. She moved to lift it before she even registered the action, her fingers reaching out without permission to pull the small item closer for her inspection.

The oversized, brightly coloured petals looked almost forlorn under the harsh kitchen bulbs. She bumped her fingertip along the symmetrical curves with a soft frown. The cheap plastic had begun to peel and fade, like the flower itself was wilting on the silver hairclip it clung to. Sunshine yellow perched like a cheery halo all around the glittering pink centre of the decorative daisy, giving it the impression that it had been picked straight out of their childhood drawings of idealised summers. And here it was, in a kitchen cupboard amongst the vinegar and mustard. Annie shook her head almost indulgently. Her stuff always seemed to end up in the randomest of places; it was as if she saw the whole house as an extension of her bedroom.

She inhaled sharply, her fingers clenching around the hard points in her palm. But these petals refused to be crushed, biting back just as hard until she was forced to relax her fist. She stared down at the defiant and innocent accessory, desperate to swallow away the burning thickness in her throat. _Charlie_. She pressed her eyes shut and opened them again, a new hardness in their granite depths. There was no room for this weakness anymore. It was just forgotten trash now, that belonged to no-one and that she had no use for.

Striding across the tiles, she stamped her foot down, sending the stainless steel lid of the bin slamming back into the wall with an echoing clang. Without another glance, she threw the small clip down to get lost amongst the crevices of the full black bag. It toppled down and disappeared with barely a clink as she let the lid fall shut again. For a moment she only stared at her distorted reflection in the steel surface, breathing fast and shallow, as if the simple action had taken up a disproportionate amount of energy. She hesitated for the longest of seconds before her shoulders straightened and she stiffly turned her back to walk away.

She stopped in the middle of the floor and stood in thoughtful quiet, hands resting lightly on her hips. She glanced towards the untouched sandwich that sat on the counter, but the thought had lost all appeal; her stomach knotted too tightly to accept any attempt at food. Her gaze switched back to the clock before turning to assess the darkening sky just outside. Night seemed to fall so quickly now. She nodded slowly to herself, decision made. After placing the uneaten sandwich in the fridge, knowing she would be craving a snack again by three in the morning, she went in search of her jacket and discovered it was still lying halfway up the stairs where she had discarded it hours earlier.

She was tempted to cut through the nearest cemetery on her way over. She knew the others weren't keen on her patrolling on her lonesome (it was bad enough even when they went out together) and she knew from experience it was a stupid risk to take on her part. Sure, she was no Slayer or professional demon hunter, but she was still pretty damn good when it came to aggressive energy. She glanced at her watch again. Yeah, she had time for a quick detour. She was running early anyway.

She needed to get out: away from this house; away from maddening questions about suspicious redheads; away from the frustrating silence. A small, satisfied smile crossed her lips as she tugged her jacket on. At least that was one thing she was guaranteed a break from tonight. This was one party that smug little witch wasn't invited to.

Annie stopped to pick up the stake and sharpened crucifix that lived on the table under the hall mirror. On further consideration, she also retrieved her walkman and stuck it inside her jacket along with a small, paperback Gothic novel that she was in the process of half reading, that centered around a rogue demon hunter somewhat in the vain of Van Helsing. Giles would call it a mockery of the genre, trashy to the nth degree. She called it research, just for the expression on his face. Still, she had a long night ahead of her and it was something to do.

Looking up, she gave her hair a quick ruffle and flashed her reflection a tired smile of encouragement, before pulling open the front door. She had a date to catch.


	26. Chapter Twenty Four

Here we go again. Hope you enjoy. Any thoughts and feedback are always welcome. Sometimes muses need little nudges to get them going in the morning.

Thanks to everyone who has commented so far. Special mention for Crazy-Girl, who's always had a soft spot for wolfy Oz, and my lovely regular reviewer Kaz, who has been missing the Ozage in the last few chapters ;)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Four  
**

Giles gave a sigh that was more a yawn, and rubbed two fingers across his brow in fatigue. Still frowning at the obscure words, he reached out for the cup of tea that sat beside him, before remembering that he had finished it about ten minutes previously. Wearily, he closed the hard cover and slid the book back onto the table. He proceeded to twirl his glasses thoughtfully between his thumb and finger as he regarded the growing stack of dead ends before him. He'd had high hopes for that one. The _Rosae Rubeae et Aureae Crucis_ was part of one of the most noted Magical Orders in history. Of all the references he'd followed, this had seemed the most promising: one of the most established mystical societies to ever successfully practice astral travel. The same basic principles of folding the temporal fabric and manipulating astral planes could (in theory) be similarly applied to travelling multiple dimensions.

However, it turned out the Order had guarded its most powerful secrets the most closely, and the only accounts he had managed to find were vague and cryptic in the most infuriating ways, giving him hardly anything substantial to work with. To be fair, Giles wasn't entirely sure what he could really do even if he found the information he was looking for. This was a bit out of his field of expertise; Jenny was more the authority here, and given her finesse with computer files and website contacts and whatnot, he had no doubt she could locate helpful information much quicker than him.

The Watcher rested the tip of his glasses on his chin. He had to admit, he found Jenny's attitude of late on this subject, a little baffling. She was evasive, almost quietly disapproving and unwilling to offer her help. Giles knew she had developed a good friendship with Willow during her stay here and all the time they had spent together. It was clear the quick-witted teacher had enjoyed having another smart and talented Wicca around, and she had taken the young witch under her wing somewhat. He could understand how they had grown so close. A tender smile crossed his face. It would've been hard not to embrace the bubbly, sweet girl with her stubborn will and infectious bright smile, regardless of how inexplicably she had crashed into their world. Her excitable curiosity and intelligence were things to admire in themselves; but there was a determination in her courage and openness in her heart that commanded a whole other respect. Giles knew he already held a deep fondness for the smart and compassionate girl who had adopted his office and brightened his day without even realising it. He knew it and it couldn't be helped now. They had let themselves get too attached, too comfortable; they had let themselves forget the urgency of her situation. Of course it was natural for them to feel conflicted like this when tough decisions had to be made. The desire not to let go was a deeply human impulse and one they were all guilty of. He himself had grown dangerously used to her warm companionship in the library; it was to be expected that Jenny would feel even more torn.

But it just wasn't safe for her here. Not that he could guarantee her safety in the other world, far from it, but at least she would be back home and in charge of her own future again. Though she was careful not to talk overly much of her own reality, he couldn't imagine how much it must hurt her to be apart from it and her loved ones. They had to let her leave; they had to let her live her own life. It was their responsibility to do the right thing; and he knew that Jenny knew it just as well as he did.

If he could give Willow a chance to get out then he would, and Giles would make sure he did everything in his power to help her return. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the full weight of his tenure on the Hellmouth settling on his shoulders like a lead weight. He had more questions than answers, and more problems than hours in the day at the moment. The redundant Watcher shook his head to himself; nothing new there then. He allowed himself a last disappointed glance at the book he had just put down. Oh well, it was just a theory anyway.

~o~

The sky outside the school was streaked in deep gold and rusty pink; bleeding across the expanse like paint through water, to settle between the bands of high white clouds. It was an interlude between the light and dark; a deep breath before the plunge to night.

Giles took a sip from his freshly made tea as he examined the set of titles in his hand. He raised his head when he heard the familiar muffled thud of the doors open and close, and stepped out of his office to greet his visitor.

"Ah, Oz. Yes," Giles cast a glance at the large clock on the wall beside the counter. "How was class?"

The student gave a non-committal shrug. His gaze took in the scattered books as he approached the long table. "Busy afternoon, huh?"

Giles inclined his head as he joined him on the library floor. "Wish I could say it was more productive."

Oz stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded without looking up. Giles cleared his throat, breaking the contemplative silence. "Well, I think everything's in place." He turned towards the book cage, gesturing in the general direction with the hot cup in his hand. "The weapon cabinet is secured; window locked," he said as he ticked off the mental checklist. "And I refilled the tranquiliser and checked it yesterday."

The boy glanced away towards the counter that hid the hunting rifle. "Comforting."

Giles regarded the student beside him, sympathy in his face. "It's just a precaution. I'm sure it won't be needed," he reassured.

Oz didn't say anything. In fact, he didn't even seem to have heard Giles's words as he frowned to himself and suddenly looked up towards the book cases on the upper level. Panic snapped at the edge of his mind, driven harder by the quick temper of the wolf that was stirring inside him. _No, she can't be here. Not now. _Before Giles could question his actions, he crossed the floor and took the steps two at a time, guided only by his overwhelmed senses.

"Oz?" Giles called worriedly from the floor below. "Is everything alright?"

He found the source of her scent almost immediately. He leaned against the bookcase, air escaping his lungs in a rush of relief as he looked down at the purple jumper that lay crumpled on the floor between the stacks. He was slightly surprised to feel his heart still hammering in adrenaline, but put it down to the imminent change that was creeping through his system, ready to pounce at the first moment of darkness. Bending down, he slowly picked up the jumper, careful not to breathe in too deeply – the wolf didn't need any more ammunition right now. The rich wool was soft and smooth between his fingers, the warmth of her body still lingered. A muted growl rumbled through his torso and his hands clenched into the fabric as he grasped for safe ground again.

Giles had taken another cautious step towards the balcony, when Oz quietly emerged and came back down the stairs. Giles nodded in relief before his gaze dropped to the item of clothing held in the boy's lowered hand. His brow furrowed for a moment. "Oh. Ah yes, Willow must have left it from earlier. She did seem rather distracted this afternoon." He lifted his shoulders in a tired shrug. "Well never mind, I can hang onto it until tomorrow." Oz's fist invisibly tightened its grip around the jumper, but there was nothing in his face to betray it.

"Where is she now?"

"She went home with Jenny about an hour ago."

The teenager nodded silently. Giles smiled in understanding and offered out a hand to take the item. Oz hesitated before forcing himself to hand it over with as much casualness as he could muster. He watched as the librarian took her jumper and his cup of tea back into the office. When he was out of earshot, Oz turned away to stare out the narrow window, high on the far wall. "Good," he breathed low to himself.

He could feel the moon rising behind the setting sun; feel the precarious imbalance between the human and the wolf shifting. He only had a few minutes.

Giles appeared at the office door. "Well, I'll leave you to…get ready, shall I?" Oz almost smiled at the man's choice of words. So much more genteel than: '_lock yourself up'_, even if it wasn't as honest. "You'll be okay?"

"I'll survive."

The Watcher nodded with something like encouragement and turned to go back inside. Seized with a sense of irrational urgency, Oz called out and stopped him.

"Giles-"

Oz cut himself off as the first wave of transformation abruptly shuddered through his system. With a grimace, he hunched over his cramping stomach muscles, before quickly raising a hand to stop his friend who had started to cross to his side in concern. "No, don't. It's…fine." With a deep breath he pulled himself straight again. He could feel the wolf inside, frantically searching for a foothold in the cracks that were being opened once more. _Not yet_, Oz thought bitterly.

He looked up to see Giles hovering anxiously a few steps away, looking undecided about whether to intervene or not. His eyes flickered to the book cage just behind the trembling boy. "Oz, maybe you should-"

"Don't let her see."

The sharp plea seemed to temporarily shock the older man from his worry. Oz held his confused gaze with determination. He spoke as firmly and evenly as his failing body and rising fear would let him.

"She can't see. She can't know."

Oz could hear the underlying desperation that tinged his words and there was nothing he could do about it. It didn't matter, not as long as he agreed.

Giles studied the boy before him. Finally, with a sigh, he shook his head with resigned acceptance. "Very well. Naturally it's your choice. I imagine Jenny should be able to make excuses for them to stay away for the next few nights. We'll think of something."

Oz nodded his silent thanks, grateful the Watcher hadn't probed further into his request. Of course it was mutually agreed that the fewer people who knew his secret the better, but this was more than that. For some reason, the thought of Willow finding out the truth about him, the dangerous monster he was capable of being - it felt like a hollow was being cut out of his chest, carving away the most important part of him.

She may never want to speak to him again. Why would she? After seeing him for what he really was, of course she'd want to keep her distance. Mistrust and hurt darkening those smiling eyes. She'd have every right to be angry, confused and afraid…afraid of _him_. It was a prospect he couldn't stand to think about. Would she feel betrayed? After all, she thought they fought to stop evil, not protect it. He couldn't let that happen. Maybe it was selfish on his part, but he just couldn't. He wasn't strong enough.

It took him a moment to realise Giles was still talking to him.

"I do understand your reluctance, but I rather think you're not giving her enough credit. Do you really think she'd think any less of you? Do we?"

Oz gave a wan smile but otherwise ignored the pointed question. It was a risk he wasn't willing to take. Maybe she would understand; maybe she wouldn't. Either way, she'd never look at him the same way again.

Grasping for the meshed door of the cage, he braced himself against another surge that twisted through his body. "Guess that's my cue," he said as calmly as he could manage through his erratic breathing.

He caught a glance of Giles stepping back carefully, before he slipped behind the metal and pulled the door shut behind him. The lock rattled into place and the wolf's frustration was immediately felt as it lashed out anxiously at the back of his mind. Oz closed his eyes, a wince of pain and exhaustion on his features. This was going to be a bad night.

He heard the quiet click of the office door as it was considerately closed, leaving him alone for the transformation. Oz stood and listened to the silence for a moment, using it to bring the familiar dread under control as much as possible. With a sigh of defeat, he tugged off his faded green shirt and threw it up on top of the cabinet. The coolness of the air conditioned school had no effect upon his heated body as he dutifully shoved his beaten trainers up on the shelf next.

Crossing his arms against the wide metal drawer, Oz pressed his forehead into his burning skin and shut his eyes. He drew in a shaky breath and let the darkness take him.

~o~

* * *

Feedback is always appreciated.


	27. Chapter Twenty Five

Wow, over a 100 reviews! Thanks so much for everyone's support - this story would not be getting written without you :) This chapter has been a struggle but it seemed to come together at last. I have to admit, my little shipper heart has been pre-occupied recently with the magic that is 'Glee'. But rest assured, there is plenty of love to go around.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Five**

Giles lifted his head wearily as another snarl and crash rattled the book cage. Abandoning all attempts at concentration, he let the crinkled and faded papers fall back onto his desk to join the others. He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose as he fought off a headache of exhaustion.

His reprieve was short lived and he flinched as the metal clanged again in loud protest. Dragging himself up, he moved slowly to peer out the office door, just in time to see the trapped animal beyond retreat a few sullen paces away from the bars after the latest spate of attacks. The librarian felt a pang of strange sympathy for that poor, battered cage. It had withstood more than its fair share of abuse over the years, and yet it still held its ground.

The wolf abruptly bared its teeth and drew back into a wary crouch as it spotted him, a low warning growl rumbling deep in its throat. Inky pools of feral black stared across the room to meet the tired and gently concerned gaze of the one who watched over him.

Giles leant heavily against doorframe as his body slumped. The words from their earlier conversation filtered back through his mind. He shook his head softly to himself, lines of sadness deepening the weathered crags on his face and shadows under his eyes. He'd quickly learned it was a fact of Sunnydale that children had to grow up quickly, and sometimes it seemed like adolescence got skipped over altogether in favour of survival and responsibility. They had faced things that no-one ever should, seen enough loss and tragedy that could easily break people twice their age. And he was so proud of all of them, grateful for everything that had helped keep them alive, despite the fact that their maturity bordered dangerously on jaded cynicism at times. It was all too easy to forget they were still so young in life; still confused teenagers who were acutely aware that their world spinning out of control. Sometimes it was too easy to forget the full extent of what some of them were struggling with; festering away in the silence. Growing up was hard enough even if you weren't living on a mouth to Hell, and all the fun party perks that came with that.

Giles sighed. There was no mistaking the fear and despising that had darted across his expression with those quiet words; breaking through those stoic defences as the moon lowered his guard in a way nothing else did. It was only a glimpse but it was a sharp reminder of what Giles too often over-looked: some demons were harder to escape than others. Guilt twinged inside his chest. He wished there was something more he could do. The fact that Oz never asked for his help, didn't excuse him from neglecting to try.

After all, lycanthropy was one of the most classic curses in mythology; there must be a plethora of material written on the subject. Granted, most of it would be fantasy and superstition, but you couldn't find the gold if you didn't sift through the silt. It couldn't ever hurt to research a bit further, if only to improve their understanding and offer support. His eyes brightened up momentarily at the thought. It really was quite a fascinating subject; though the Watcher was aware he would have to curb his academic enthusiasm if he was to avoid the risk of making Oz feel like a pet project.

Yet the glimmer soon died under the weight of the many other priorities that fell back on his mind. It was a good intention, but deep down, Giles knew that was all it could be. Between trying to thwart the Master from unleashing even more deadly chaos and searching for a way to return Willow back home and out of the line of fire, he simply didn't have the time and energy to spare on anything that didn't currently fall under the banner of '_critically urgent'_. He felt his shoulders sag and the dull thumping behind his temples returned.

He let his tired gaze wash over the scene for another moment before he straightened, willing himself more alertness. A snarl rose up from the depths of the cage as he crossed over to the card index, careful to keep a safe and respectful distance from the wire bars. The fact remained that there were few things more dangerous and unpredictable than a cornered predator. Practised fingers flipped through the small drawer for a few minutes before he found the reference he was searching for. Scanning the card in his hand, Giles turned away towards the book cases, steps heavy with the trudge of stubborn determination.

Baleful eyes followed the human's every movement, sharp and resentful. Behind the fence of metal, the brooding wolf continued to stalk the floor of its confinement.

~o~

The library doors swung open with a careless bang. Surprised, Giles stuck his head out from the stacks and frowned.

"Annie?"

"Present and accounted for."

He watched her nudge some wayward flicks of hair over her shoulder as she walked in, gait as sure and confident as ever; hands stuck in the pockets of her black jacket. Her eyes swept over the room before settling on him.

Flipping closed the book in his hand, he descended the steps to meet her. He glanced at the clock then back at her. "You're, uh, rather early, aren't you?"

She shrugged, unconcerned. "Am I?"

"It's just, well, I wasn't expecting you for another hour or so. Is everything okay?"

"Just peachy." Familiar sarcasm bit into her voice for a moment before with some effort, she seemed to shake it away. She offered him a small smile of appeasement. "Yeah, I was just going a little stir-crazy at home. Figured I'd swing by and let you get away early for a change."

"Oh. Well, that's—"

Annie didn't let him finish, turning her attention instead towards the cage. She took a few curious steps forwards. "How's beastie boy doing anyway?"

Giles rubbed a hand down his face, eyes itchy with fatigue, before stepping up beside her, focusing his gaze likewise on the prowling animal inside. The cage echoed with a soft, warning thunder as the wolf glared back at his unwanted audience.

"He's, well… a little restless, I would say." As if to punctuate his words, the wolf snapped its jaws in their direction irritably. Annie raised her eyebrows but didn't flinch and didn't look away.

"Still, he should settle down eventually. He'll tire himself out, if nothing else." Wearily, he turned away, stifling the yawn that was trying to escape him.

"Jeez. Giles, you look like hell."

"Why, thank you," he muttered.

Annie tilted her head, watching him closely; the full force of her appraising stare turned on him, hands on her hips in a stance that reminded him briefly of Jenny. She narrowed her eyes. "I'm serious. 'Walking dead' is not a good look on you; people will think you've switched teams."

Giles paused to give her a patented look of un-amused exasperation, before returning to pulling up various folders from under the counter. "I'm touched by your concern, but I don't think I'm in danger of keeling over just yet."

"Still," Annie sidled up to the counter, laying her palms down flat as she stared at him. "When was the last time you got a decent rest? Get yourself home and get some sleep for once. You know," she leaned over, voice lowering in a mock conspiratorial whisper, "Traditionally, that's what night time was actually _for_. Crazy, I know."

"Yes, well, hazard of the job I'm afraid," he said absently, still reading the spines of various books as they passed through his hands before either replacing them or adding them to the stack on the desk.

Annie sighed, rocking back on her heels. "Look, I'm here now and fresh as a daisy – well, not quite but still a hell of a lot better than you. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, or whatever. It's not like Oz needs two babysitters and you're nearly asleep at your post anyway-" She saw Giles open his mouth to correct her, but she ignored him. "Hey, I'm doing you a favour."

"Well, of course I was intending to head home at—"

"Great," she interrupted, seemingly satisfied. "Then get gone. Leave the all-nighters to the young and unemployed. We're good for something at least." She smiled to show she was teasing as Giles glanced up and regarded her with a stare of bemused vexation, before finally adjusting his glasses with a sigh.

"Fine, fine, I suppose. I'll just take a few things…"

Annie rolled her eyes as the librarian lifted the fresh stack of literature into his arms and disappeared back into his office, where she could hear him still mumbling to himself. He reappeared a few moments later, tugging his jacket on with one hand and gripping his bulging book bag with the other.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay until he settles a bit-"

He cast an eye over the book cage behind her but Annie just shook her head, cutting him off. "I can handle one frisky werewolf. We'll be fine."

She saw the hesitation wavering on his face and was torn between laughing and stamping her foot in frustration. She settled for crossing her arms and fixing him with a stern look. "The world won't end if you go to bed like a normal person." She paused in an afterthought. "But if it does - I promise, we'll wake you."

Giles managed a strained smile and nodded in submission. "Just be careful."

Annie shrugged. "Hey, you know me."

He gave her a look that clearly indicated that he did indeed know her, and that was hardly helping to assure him. She huffed and gestured impatiently towards the door. Deciding to take the not-so-subtle hint, Giles adjusted his bag and felt for his car keys.

"Call if you need anything," he added as he fumbled his way towards the exit. Annie raised her eyes to the ceiling, which he took as a grudging '_fine_'. "Well, goodnight. I'll see you-" he motioned in their direction, "- both in the morning." Then, with a last glance over his library, the exhausted Watcher gratefully turned for home.

Annie shook her head, a faint smile on her lips as she watched the swinging doors fall back into place after him. That man seriously needed to learn to let go a bit.

The quiet she had been craving slowly settled upon the library, broken only by a steady grumbling growl from the book cage. With a sigh, Annie gingerly pulled off her jacket as she prepared to settle in for the night. Laying the garment aside, she pressed her fingers carefully against the swelling bruise on her shoulder, still smarting from where she had crashed into the derelict gravestone. She turned her attention to her other arm, twisting it slightly so she could assess the stinging cuts and scrapes that adorned the skin between her wrist and her elbow. She brushed away the dirt that filled the wounds, glad there was no-one there to see her wince. She searched for any other immediate marks from her encounter, but saw nothing else but the familiar thin slash that ran up her arm. She hesitated for a second, touching a finger to the marked skin of the old wound. These cuts too would fade, some would disappear; but everything scars.

She flicked her head up and began to stretch out her sore muscles. At least the stupid vampire had managed to avoid her face; the last thing she would've needed was another lecture from Giles when she walked in. As things were, she seemed to have gotten away with her extra-curricular slaying. Sure, she had fresh aches and pains and the memory of another narrow escape, but he was dust, so she was fairly confident she could claim a win. Even if it was a very lucky one.

It had definitely taken the edge off her bad mood at least. Nothing like a little cathartic violence. Bracing her arms against the counter behind her, Annie hoisted herself up to sit on the check-out desk opposite the cage.

"Looks like it's just you and me then," she said conversationally as she rummaged through the jacket beside her. A rising snarl was all the response she got; which, frankly, was more than she got from the boy himself sometimes.

Dark eyes softened as her gaze traced the shifting outline of the animal across the room; fingers idly turning over the stake in her hands as she thought.

Yeah, as far as duties went, it wasn't a terrible way to spend a night.

~o~

The open curtains ruffled past her body as Willow paced across the limited floor space of her bedroom for the umpteenth time. When she reached the dresser again, she turned around and retraced her steps in the same pattern she had been repeating for the better part of an hour. Her teeth nipped lightly at the pads of her fingertips that were pressed against her mouth, anxious eyes narrowed at the carpet under her bare feet as if it were deliberately withholding information.

Coming to a sudden stop, she sighed in frustration and flopped down on the edge of her bed. Raising her head almost reluctantly, she stared across the room to the single window and the tauntingly ripe moon that glowed beyond, so far and so untouchable yet completely dominating the clear skyscape; a crowning white jewel drowning out the glitter of stars around it.

She ran both hands through her already tangled hair and looked away, trying to think, but her gaze was soon pulled back to the conflicting sight, like a magnetic field that was specifically attuned to her. How could she have forgotten? How had she managed to let this sneak up on her? Of course she could blame it on the disorienting effects of reality jumping; the time adjustment had undoubtedly thrown her when she had initially arrived. How many days or weeks had she skipped by crossing from one dimension to another? Still, Willow had always prided herself on knowing Oz's wolfy calendar by heart. She even used to mark them in her diary with little gold stars and random doodles, so she could do her best to plan around them and make sure she could be there for him. Of course, it didn't always work out – commitments and school sometimes got in the way – but she knew that in his own taciturn way, he had appreciated the effort.

She had been relieved earlier when Jenny had told her they wouldn't be patrolling tonight. After the revelations of the afternoon, she didn't feel up to facing Mike again so soon. Grateful for her unexpected reprieve, she hadn't questioned the decision, instead following Jenny's lead and opting for a well overdue early night. The significance of the date had dawned on her quite by accident: rolling awake from a restless slumber, only to find that she had been so pre-occupied before bed that she had fallen asleep with her curtains open. It took her another moment to register the familiar sight of the waxing moon that had since spun into full view of her window; silently reaching out with a ghostly siren call.

Her mind had been racing a mile a minute ever since: first panic, then guilt, then confusion tumbling through her. Hence the pacing.

After all, an emotional connection to the moon cycle had become just as much an ingrained habit of hers as it was his, but she suddenly wondered if it was now an unnecessary one. Different worlds, different lives. Who was to say the boy here even shared the same curse as _her_ Oz once did? It may be a completely moot point now. No longer a part of who he was. Her heart swelled then constricted almost instantaneously at the thought. She hastily scrambled back to the logical side of her brain.

On the other hand, what were the odds that Jenny and the others would call off patrolling on the night before the full moon, by coincidence? Knowing what she once did, it was too much doubt for her to comfortably disregard. Moonlight washed through her window, giving her pale skin a sallow glow in the darkness. Her brow crinkled in deliberation. Even if it was the case, then the fact remained that they had knowingly pulled her out of the situation. _I'm not meant to know_, Willow reminded herself with a mental sigh. Another secret of her double life. And they didn't want her to know either, if tonight's ruling was anything to go by. They wanted her out of the way. But was that just their decision…or his?

She felt something inside break a little at the painful realisation. She took a deep breath. But, maybe, that was how things should be. At least for now. Maybe she shouldn't be there; maybe she should just respect their obvious wishes. She should be patient. And if…if _he_ didn't want her there, what right did she have to force herself into that part of his life? A previous claim from a relationship that had died in her world and had never existed here? No, she had no right whatsoever anymore.

She had to play by their rules. And yet with her, rules seemed to have a habit of being thrown out the window whenever Oz was in the equation.

Pushing herself off the bed, she stood and moved back to the window, staring up at the sky that held so many questions. Her warm breath made misty clouds against the glass, her eyes closing as she strained her ears, as if she could catch the echo of a familiar howl on the night air.

She couldn't stand this. She couldn't pretend like he might not be out there. True, she may not be wanted, but what if she was needed? She had been through too much already to pull away from him now. Sure enough, she felt the fracture in her chest slowly remould into stubborn resolve. Because she was Willow, and this was Oz - and there were some parts of her nature that went too deep to ignore.

She had to know.

Blinking a few times as if she were coming out of a daze, Willow turned away from the window and picked up the clothes she had discarded just a few hours earlier. After stuffing the pockets of her jacket full of supplies, she slipped out into the hallway and carefully pulled her door to.

Slowly, she crept her way through the sleeping apartment, doing her best to shut out the unpleasant feeling of apprehension in her stomach as the reality of her decision settled in her mind. Wandering the streets of this new deadly Sunnydale, alone and at the height of the vamping hour - probably not her smartest idea. But since when had she been smart about any of this? When she reached the door, she fumbled for a second to find the locks in the dark before turning them back with a sharp '_clack'_. She held her breath and listened for any sound from the direction of Jenny's bedroom. When none were forthcoming, she resumed breathing and let herself out of the apartment as quietly as possible.

Great. Now she just had to not _die_ between here and the high school. Piece of cake.

~o~

* * *

Reviews brighten my days :)


	28. Chapter Twenty Six

*peeks out and waves* I am _so_ sorry, this is insanely overdue and I wouldn't blame you for giving up on me. I swear, cyber time moves at a much quicker speed than the rest of the world! Thank you if you have stuck with the story and have come back to keep reading :) It means a lot. And special thanks to Kaz and TrixieFirecracker for giving me the motivation to finally get this chapter out! Appreciate it, guys :) Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**~o~**

The streets were unnaturally quiet, shrouded in a darkness that was too deep and still; one that threatened to suffocate the dawn before it could even think about rising. The kind of night that felt endless, where time itself became an enemy and moved against you: where it took minutes to place one cautious foot in front of the other, and hours to edge around each blind corner. Where no matter how quick you breathed; how fast your heart beat; how sharp your reflexes were – the elusive safety of your destination never seemed to come any closer.

It was like being caught in a nightmare: you could feel yourself moving, running as hard as your mind would let you, yet the air seemed to stick like tar to your legs, slowing you to a desperate trudge. Where no matter what you did, you could never quite run fast enough to wake up.

Muffled footsteps pounded softly through the silence, echoing off empty buildings and stretching across the streets. Long shadows broke apart only to instantly reform in the wake of her steps; reaching up from the ground and wrapping around her ankles like icy fingers that tried to pull her under. The girl shivered and quickened her pace as much as she dared, struggling to escape her own dark reflection as it hurried along beside her. Her only company.

A sliver of sharpened wood could be glimpsed occasionally, clenched within her tense fingers, ready to strike at a second's warning. Wary eyes cast about nervously, always watching for a shadow out of place; listening for the scuffle of a stalking footstep behind her.

But humans were never meant to be nocturnal. They had never evolved the instinct and ability to easily navigate the black chill of night like so many other creatures. It made them weak. And on some primal level, the body and mind were always seeking out light and warmth; recoiling away from the threat of the unknown. They would never feel truly at ease in the darkness. It just wasn't part of their nature.

As the forbidding outline of the high school grew clearer, her speed increased, but never carelessly so. She never allowed her guard drop an inch, even in the relief and eagerness that she must have felt to finally get inside and away from prying eyes. This one was clever.

Or maybe just incredibly foolish.

Hurrying up the steps, she seemed to hesitate as she reached the doors. Her body twisted as she turned to glance over her shoulder one last time. Bright eyes scanned across the blackness, squinting into the silent night that coated the surrounding streets and parkland opposite. A frown glanced over her brow, an unsettled irregularity in her heartbeat as she struggled to place the prickle on the back of her neck.

A breeze stirred briefly, rustling through the softly swaying branches and almost making her jump. The ebbing current rippled through the air, whipping up the enticing whisper of her scent as she quickly pushed a lock of flaming hair out of her eyes.

A low snarl rumbled deep in the darkness, undetectable to any human sense but loud enough to earn him a sharp, warning glare from his companion. He scowled back, impatience and hunger riling his bad mood.

They'd followed this girl halfway through the town and now she was just standing there: like she was almost waiting for them to get it over with. He'd never been one for the cat-and-mouse game, or whatever this was. He liked his meals quick and easy, and the tantalizing taste that drifted across the road was more than enough to get his stomach growling.

He raised his eyebrows pointedly, seeking the confirmation to move. But his companion's face remained impassive. A barely perceptible shake of his head was the only response he was given; the cool authority in that gaze leaving no room for negotiation.

He fought the urge to bare his fangs in irritation – it wasn't worth the confrontation. It would probably only amuse the brat anyway. He turned back towards the school to find her still scanning in vain for their presence. For a second her eyes seemed to focus on him and he tensed in anticipation, but they quickly moved on, sweeping blindly over the liquid shadows that concealed them. He felt the groan of frustration building in his chest. It was almost too tempting to resist.

She abruptly dropped her gaze, moving her attention to her pockets as she retrieved something from the depths of her jacket. Almost reluctantly, she turned her back and fumbled with the wide doors that marked the entrance to the building, every line of her body taught with adrenaline. A second later she slipped inside and disappeared from view.

His companion's eyes lingered on the closed doors for a moment longer before lazily turning to meet his. With a jerk of his head, both figures pulled away from the cluster of trees; the grass whispering under their feet as they melted back into the waiting night.

/o/

Willow immediately snapped the locks back into place, hands trembling so slightly as she released the breath she didn't realise she'd been holding.

She couldn't shake off the disconcerting feeling of being watched; the sensation of invisible eyes on her back. She was half tempted to think she was becoming overly paranoid, which was probably an accurate assessment, but all her time with Buffy had taught her that sometimes the paranoia was justified.

Still, she was here now and still in one piece. Somehow, for whatever reason, she had been left alone. Willow wasn't naïve enough to think she could be so lucky as to have escaped detection completely, without a single direct confrontation or defensive spell.

No, she was on somebody's radar; they just weren't prepared to step out of the shadows yet.

It was hardly a comforting thought, but you may as well count your small blessings, in whatever doubtful form they took. Straightening her shoulders, she backed away from the doors, keeping one eye on the enveloping night that pressed against the building just outside. They would only ever be able to keep it at bay for so long. Sooner or later it would come for her. For all of them.

With a deep breath, she forced herself to turn around and focus on why she was here; why she had stupidly braved the deserted streets in the first place. A current of nervous anticipation stirred in her stomach and her feet hesitated for the briefest moment, stopping her in her tracks, preventing her from moving closer to the truth.

Memories churned through her mind: painful and loving, dark and conflicted. Home seemed so far away right now. Honestly, Willow wasn't sure what she expected to find here; which way her heart was hoping. A small smile trembled on her lips as the echo of an amused voice whispered in her ear.

He'd probably have labelled the whole dilemma as majorly ironic.

The guilty confusion was making her feel sick, so she quickly slammed a door on the raging emotional storm. She would deal with this world one day at a time. That had been her philosophy so far and it seemed prudent to stick to it now. They would find a way to get through this. Step by step.

The school was dark and cool, the well trodden hallways stretching out in front of her like twists in a maze. Each corner promising a new direction, a different path, yet they always seemed to lead her back to the same place: the heart of their little world.

The lights of the library shone like a beacon in the gloom, managing to break the surreal sensation that she was wandering through a dream. A jolt skidded through her heart. Of course, it didn't necessarily mean anything. The room was nearly always occupied these days; Giles seemed to practically live there. Well, at least she knew for certain that she wasn't the only person here in this eerie building at such an unsociable hour of night.

She slipped up to the doors and peered through the porthole windows, trying to spy the librarian without being spotted. After all, she wanted to avoid Jenny finding out about this sneaky little trip if she could help it. Willow bit her lip nervously. Technically she _had_ run away from her house in the middle of the night, and she could just imagine the concerned lectures she would be on the receiving end of if Jenny woke to find her gone. She really didn't want to cause any undue worry or awkward questions.

However, the floor appeared pretty empty from what she could glimpse in her limited field of vision. She frowned for a moment, considering her options, before laying her hands down to gingerly push against the heavy wood. It was now or never.

Her eyes swept quickly across the open space, a warm sense of familiarity drifting through her mind. Odd books were left lying about, remnants of abandoned research; the office door was slightly ajar, quietly welcoming, but she could detect no movement inside; the same clock sat high on the wall just like always: calmly ticking away, studiously counting down the hours of their lives.

Yet something about the scene felt almost timeless. The threads of their entwined pasts; the changing present and evolving future – for a second it all seemed to converge here. Everything that once was; all that could've been; the pages of history unwritten and laid out before her in a ribbon of blank verse. Everything that was still to come.

It was strangely peaceful.

She was almost reluctant to disturb it. Finally, with fresh resolve, she stepped forward and carefully crept through the narrow gap. The moment broke and slipped out of her fingers as she entered the waiting scene; taking her place in the story that was still unfolding.

Time crashed back down on her with an urgent force, quickening the pulse of her heart. Willow swallowed nervously as she edged her way to the book cage, eyes caught on the twisted wire as she tried to see past it, searching for at least one answer to her endless parade of questions. Something in her mind flinched in unease, but she forced herself to keep walking. She had to know for sure.

She jerked to a sudden stop, freezing in place, as a familiar soft growl rose to meet her ears. A surge of painful emotions gripped her heart, fighting for dominance and demanding confirmation. Breath shallow in her lungs, she took another tentative step forward, refusing to heed the wolf's warning of discontent.

Coal black eyes flashed in the dim light, wary and dangerous. Willow felt a stabbing jolt of déjà vu swell through her body as her gaze finally fell upon the prowling creature beyond the bars. The large wolf was pacing sullenly at the back of the cage, ears flat against its head and a deep rumble in its throat as it regarded this new intruder to its territory.

_Oz…_

She could feel her heart fluttering against her ribs like a trapped bird, her eyes soaking in every detail of the dark animal before her: the same shape-shifting form of her lover that she had watched over so many nights before. As the initial impact began to subside, she stepped closer, her movements slow and careful, ever considerate of the wolf's temperamental disposition; the unconscious instincts falling easily back into place. Her gaze was unflinching as she felt the weight of the truth resonate softly through her bones like plucked strings on a guitar. The temptation to slip backwards into the safety of her memories was almost overwhelming: she could feel the echo of their parallel lives beckoning at the back of her mind, but she reluctantly pushed against it; forcing herself to try and remain in this new life, to remember the realities of the situation.

Still, she couldn't help the warm ache that burned through her chest; the fragile bubble of hope that maybe this world wasn't quite so foreign. The wolf moved restlessly under her examination, sharp eyes darting up to hers as it bared its teeth in a quiet snarl. Willow watched back, gently searching those familiar ebony depths – and for once, the lack of recognition didn't hurt. It was almost a relief. For the first time since she had stepped into this dimension and intruded into his life, Willow felt like they were standing on equal ground again. Against all the odds, here they were: returning to the comfort of a pattern they had moved to so many times before. For one deceptively innocent moment, it was just another full moon cycle; just another night together in the library. They were just Willow and Oz again.

Her eyes roved over the stalking animal, drinking in the sight like a soothing elixir: the soft patter of his great paws; the agitated flick of his tail; the powerful muscles that rippled under that same coarse, gun-metal grey fur. She knew it was horribly selfish and she knew it wouldn't last, but as the lingering pain in her heart momentarily receded into a dull ache, she couldn't bring herself to feel anything but gratitude. For one wishful second, she could convince herself he was still _her_ wolf.

It may only be a faint reflection of the relationship she had lost, but it was enough to bring a cautious smile to her face. Willow touched her fingers to the meshed bars of the cage, her eyes soft and words a tender whisper.

"Hey you."

The wolf didn't cease its pacing, tossing its head slightly in frustration as it continued to contemplate the walls of its prison. She watched him quietly, lost in her own thoughts.

"I wouldn't get too close if I were you."

Startled, Willow jerked back from the cage guiltily and turned in the direction of the familiar voice. She was met with a cool glare that instantly quelled the tentative warmth that had begun to spread through her system, and she briefly wondered how long she had been standing there. Annie's face was a mask as she leant against the upper balcony, arms folded casually over the railing and a thinly veiled challenge in her voice as she regarded her unwelcome visitor.

She tilted her head, a tight smile quirking her lips. "Just a suggestion."

Willow bristled at being warned away from her boyfriend like an over eager child at the zoo. With some effort, she stopped herself from narrowing her eyes in response and instead opted for inoffensive civility, for all the good it had done her so far.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise anyone…I thought Giles…" She trailed off into awkward silence, unsure how to plausibly explain her abrupt presence.

Annie raised an indifferent eyebrow to the other girl's ramblings, clearly unimpressed. Willow hesitated before looking back towards the cage, inwardly struggling to curb the defensiveness at having to justify herself. Taking a breath, she patiently reminded herself of her proper place in this reality. Annie had every right to be looking out for Oz. A frown crossed her face and she quickly stomped on the flicker of jealousy that rose up.

At that moment, the wolf interrupted her thoughts with a deep growl that seemed to vibrate through the tense atmosphere like a brewing storm. Willow seized the opportunity for a redirect, keen to break the strained silence.

"Is he okay?" she asked, concern furrowing her brow. "He seems a little…cranky."

The old wood creaked under her grip as Annie pushed away from the railing. Willow glanced over as she came down the steps and walked up to join her on the floor in front of the book cage. Annie kept her gaze trained on the stalking wolf behind the metal as she shrugged in reply.

"Animals don't like cages. Unsurprisingly."

She stiffened at the dismissive tone before swiftly hiding her reaction, suspecting that the callous words were chosen for her benefit. They stood in uncomfortable quiet for a moment: Willow shifting slightly on the balls of her feet, fingers clenched into her jacket; Annie calmly still, arms folded tightly across her chest in a physical barrier.

"You're not scared."

She looked over at that. There was curious line to Annie's mouth, like she found something bitterly amusing about the situation. Willow frowned, trying to read the line under her words, before straightening her back in subtle defiance, tired of playing dumb.

"Why would I be scared of Oz?"

That earned her a cursory glance, sharp appraisal burning in those dark eyes, and Willow couldn't tell if her answer had been wholly unexpected or not.

"Well, he's not exactly _Oz_ right now, is he?" she replied tersely, a tone of condescension in her voice that made Willow bite her tongue in response. Annie turned her head away, flicking back a stray lock of hair as her gaze fell upon the animal across the room. She shook her head. "You shouldn't be here."

Willow flinched at the blunt reprimand, one that she had no real grounds to challenge despite every objecting fibre in her body. She felt her shoulders slump slightly, a twinge of unfair frustration stinging inside her heart. She sighed tiredly.

"I just wanted…I had to know."

Annie's mouth twitched in a hard, mocking smile, before it was quickly concealed under mild distain once more. "Well, now you've had a good goggle at the freak show – you can leave."

That was a snide dig too far for Willow's already frayed emotions. She shot an indignant glare at the girl beside her, knowing she was trying to push her buttons but unable to stop herself.

"I would _never_ –"

"Oh spare me," Annie interrupted, scornful derision filling her voice as she wheeled around. "You may have all the guys wrapped around your finger and falling for this harmless little bookworm routine, but we both know it isn't true." Her eyes shone with resentment as the brittle tension finally cracked between them. "And if you think I'm just going to stand back and watch you hurt the people I care about –"

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Willow said quietly, even as she fought back the uncomfortable doubt that crept along the edge of her mind; a constant reminder of the twisted web of complications she was getting caught up in.

"Yeah, sure. You're just _passing through_, right? Little Alice tumbling through Wonderland, wreaking havoc wherever you go, and then when the shit inevitably hits the fan – you get to wake up, safe and sound, back in your own world. How convenient."

"_Convenient_?" Willow snapped, her temper finally exploding under the pressure of Annie's goading. She clenched her fists and didn't even bother to try and reel it back in. "You think this is all a game to me? A big joke or something? You have no idea what you're talking about! You can't begin to imagine what it feels like to be a whole _world_ away from the people you love; trapped out of reach with no means of contacting them. Knowing I'll probably never see them again…" She panicked as she felt the sting of tears threatening behind her eyes and furiously blinked them away, determined not to break down in front of Annie of all people.

"And whose fault is that?"

Willow felt as if she had just been punched in the gut. She stared at Annie's unflinching expression, temporarily lost for words as the blow of her accusation cut dangerously close to the bone. She couldn't know; there was no way. Her mind stumbled into fear before she quickly got a grip on herself. She was just lashing out, trying to hurt her, and Willow refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing just how painful the truth behind her remark was.

Annie glimpsed a wave of raw emotion darken those eyes for a moment before they turned cold, and took the chance to push her advantage.

"I don't know what your angle is or why you're here, but we both know there's something else to all this." She held Willow's gaze stubbornly, silently daring her to try and deny it. "I don't care what the others think – things just don't happen for no reason. Not around here. I mean, you just show up on our doorstep, out the blue, amnesia girl or vampire or wicked witch or _whatever _the hell you are, and you think it's somehow okay to give us _no _explanation!"

There was a frustrated snarl from the cage, dark eyes flashing as the wolf paced in increasingly frantic circles. Willow cast a distracted look over while mentally struggling to keep a guard on her tongue and the heated retort that was burning in her lungs; everything she'd kept bottled up for so long but couldn't afford to reveal. Not now. Not like this. Returning her attention to Annie, she opened her mouth to object but found that her accuser wasn't finished.

"Funny that, isn't it? No idea how you got here or why you were pulled out of your own reality, and yet you know so much about _us_. All those knowing looks and little comments, as if you're in on something we're not; like you think you know more about our lives than we do." Placing her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes. "Giles and Jenny may find it all terribly fascinating and _endearing_, but you don't fool me."

Willow fought the urge to grit her teeth and dug her nails harder into her palms; cursing her luck as she tried to gather her tumultuous thoughts into effective arguments. She hadn't anticipated coming under fire in such a personal attack tonight. She mentally rolled her eyes. Of all the people on Oz-watch, it just _had_ to be Annie didn't it?

Taking a breath, she tried to inject some patient reason into her voice. "They were my friends back home, that's all. Of course I know them. I haven't pretended otherwise."

Her words did nothing to appease the young woman as Annie hardened her glare in response. "Just because you knew them before doesn't mean you know them now. Having a few titbits of generic information doesn't give you an insider's perspective into who we are or what we've been through. These are _real_ lives you're toying with here; this isn't some fantasy you can just bend to your whim."

"You think I don't know that?" Willow demanded hotly.

"No. Frankly, I don't think you do," she shot back. "This is our _world_; our home – not a second rate replica you can use to try to recreate _yours_. You have to start accepting that. You can't always have what you want; sometimes you have to learn to live with what you get. Just like the rest of us."

There was a rattle of metal from across the floor but it barely registered against the heat of the girls' argument. The wolf drew back with a deepening growl, pitch black eyes fixed on the quarrelling humans outside his cage. The tension they were giving off was palpable; the sharp, unpleasant pitch of their raised voices grating against his ears, adding to his restlessness. Fresh scents and heightened emotions mixed through the air, overwhelming his senses and stirring up a fevered agitation in their wake. It was a cacophony of noise inside his head, and he didn't like it. Crouching low, he poised every muscle and sprang forward, hurling his full weight against the door. The bars groaned again.

Willow shook her head softly, fighting back the sting of Annie's words; the guilty flinch in the back of her mind that knew she deserved it. What she'd done was selfish and unfair and maybe unforgivable, but she couldn't change it now.

"I'm not trying to steal your world from you," she said firmly, forcing herself not to break eye contact and lose ground in the stand-off. "I'm just trying to help."

"Oh really?" she scoffed. "Then what's the big conspiracy for? If you've got nothing to hide, then why do you keep refusing to give any answers? Why say nothing if you knew about Oz all along? What _exactly_ are you waiting for?"

Willow allowed herself a thin smile. "Like you pointed out, it wasn't my place to make assumptions, was it?"

Annie glowered before swiftly reclaiming the moral high ground. "Whatever. You can try and defend yourself all you want, but the truth is that you and your secrets are going to put us all in even more danger, and trust me: we don't need any more help in trying to get ourselves killed."

There was a muffled bang from the cage followed by an irritated snarl. Willow glanced over with a frown, but was distracted again as Annie instantly resumed her self-righteous speech.

Crossing her arms, she levelled an almost speculative glare at the redhead. "I don't know what it is you think makes you so special. What gives you the right to go flitting across other realities like this: crashing through people's lives, screwing with their feelings, only to waltz out again and leave _us _to pick up the pieces!"

Willow felt something inside her snap; furious resentment rushing through her blood. "You don't know that," she fired back, eyes blazing. "You don't know _anything _about me."

Annie laughed, short and bitter. "_Exactly!_ Why don't you try telling _them_ that?"

"And that's what you can't stand, isn't it?" she challenged, stepping forward, taking control of the volatile exchange. "That they trust me; that despite every reason you give them, they've still let me into their lives because they aren't as jaded and suspicious as _you_!"

Annie shot her a withering glare but before the confrontation could escalate any further, a screech of rusty metal pierced the air. Both spun around but could only watch in horror as with a thunderous crash, the battered cage door finally gave up the fight.

**~o~**

* * *

**AN:** Hmm, wait months for an update and then leave it on a cliffe...Evil, me? ;) This took frickin' _ages_ to write but hopefully it turned out okay. Kudos if you spotted the line from Willow's other wolf-related confrontation. Thanks for reading.

Reviews are lovely things and always appreciated, with smiles and cookies :)


	29. Chapter Twenty Seven

There is absolutely no excuse. Over a year is far, _far_ too long between updates and I will be honestly stunned if I have any readers left. However, overdue as it is, here is the next instalment.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**~o~**

"_Move!"_

Annie's voice was barely audible over the guttural roar of the enraged animal that lunged through the broken cage door and hurled itself towards them.

She reacted without thinking. Honed reflexes kicked in as she all but threw herself aside, skidding to the floor at the same moment Annie dodged the other way. Willow scrambled across the ground, flinching away from the angry growl beside her as the wolf slammed into the counter. The floor shook with the impact, making her teeth jar painfully as the world blurred into a pressing miasma of noise and fear around her.

Pain shot up through her knees from where she collided into the floor, making her grimace, but she quickly jerked up with horror as a shout and thundering snarl abruptly echoed over from the direction of the table. It was too fast. Time seemed to hold her prisoner and Willow found she could only watch with wide eyes as she saw the huge wolf going tooth and claw after Annie – tearing across the room in a bolt of grey fur and snapping jaws. The young woman was a fast and agile prey to pursue but the wolf gave eager chase, the thrill of the hunt a primal instinct that overruled all others. Willow's heart leapt into her throat as she saw Annie turn on her heel and grab up a wooden chair, hurling it back at the rapidly approaching animal with all her might. She winced despite herself as she watched the chair find its target with a violent force, drawing an irate roar in response but barely slowing down the wolf's attack.

_"Get the gun!"_

Willow jolted as the sharp command pierced the air, cutting through the terror that had momentarily stunned her into paralysis. Annie hollered the words over her shoulder as she flew up the steps in a futile attempt to outrun the creature that snarled behind her, ripping its way through the hastily scattered furniture as if it were nothing more substantial than forest leaves. She felt a familiar adrenaline break through the shock and fear, filling her with a single-minded determination and galvanising her into action. "Distract him!" she shouted back, pulling herself roughly to her feet and twirling on the spot to lunge over the counter.

"What do you _think _I'm doing!" Annie snapped furiously, stumbling away from the staircase and retreating into the stacks as the wolf leapt up to the balcony in one terrifying bound. "Playing fucking _fetch!_"

Willow ignored the retort, already scrambling to hoist herself up. The edge of the countertop cut into her stomach but still she reached and stretched, fumbling blindly along the hidden shelf on the other side, feeling for the rifle that should be there. She flinched as she heard Annie yell and felt the floor tremble again as a bookcase came crashing down, but she didn't dare pause to look behind her. Pushing the sickening déjà vu from her mind, she swore under her breath and redoubled her frantic efforts to locate the tranquiliser gun. Yet the hard metal of the barrel escaped her fingers and she abruptly felt panic stab through the pit of her gut like shards of glass.

_What if they keep it somewhere different?_

It was a delay she couldn't afford, and the thought was enough to turn her numb with dread. But then she glimpsed it – stowed away on the low shelves on the far side of the alcove. As more deafening chaos erupted from the balcony, Willow practically vaulted over the counter, tumbling down head first and toppling ungracefully to the other side. She sucked in a pained breath but didn't stop as she lunged across the floor and knocked everything off the shelves in her haste to grab the rifle. Freezing relief flooded her system as she finally hauled the weapon into her grip. Clutching the gun with white knuckles, she staggered to her feet as her index finger found the trigger with the touch of habit.

As she spun around, Willow nearly dropped the gun in shock. A shrill scream tore from her lips as she suddenly found herself face to face with a large and_ very_ angry werewolf. It jumped up onto the countertop with a fluid ease and seemed to tower over her, overwhelming strength and balance combined into a perfectly deadly combination. It glowered down at her hungrily, black eyes burning like smoking coals and ears flat against its head. A deep growl cracked through the air like thunder, lips pulling back to reveal white blades of needled teeth as muscles rippled and bunched in its shoulders, preparing to pounce. Willow blinked dumbly for a second, frozen in the captivating power of the wolf's flashing onyx gaze. Had Oz always been that big? And that… wolfy?

She snatched back her senses not a second too soon.

With a yelp she lunged aside, hurling herself through the open door to her right as she fled into the office in the same moment that the wolf leapt for her with a vicious snarl. Great shuddering crashes followed in her wake but she didn't stop to glance back as she tore through the small office, survival instinct clamouring up through her body until all she could hear was the pounding ache of panic that strangled the air in her lungs.

Yanking open the glass door with such force that she was surprised it didn't shatter on impact, Willow flew back out onto the library floor, the loping wolf hot on her heels. She thought she heard her name being screamed over the roar in her head, but everything was quickly drowned out as she felt the unmistakable presence of her pursuer bearing down on her back with a frightening speed. With a last ditch of desperation, she tried to twist out of the way, only to stumble painfully over her own feet and go sprawling to the ground. Breath was crushed from her chest and horror seized her insides as she felt the gun knocked out of her grip, only to see it go skidding out of her reach across the polished floor.

Willow felt the promise of tears prick her eyes, fresh wounds of immeasurable regret that would never get the chance to fall. _Not like this, please._ Yet she knew it was too late. Helpless fear swallowed her whole for a fraction of a second, tightening into a solid knot of ice in her throat. Her trapped heart was beating so frantically she numbly wondered if it wasn't trying to break its way out of her chest and somehow escape its fate. She caught a fleeting glance of her looming death over her shoulder before she squeezed her eyes shut and drew her last breath, bracing for the agonizing impact of claws on flesh.

But it didn't come.

"_Hey!"_

Willow wrenched her eyes open as an angry yell echoed through the air, jolting as she felt something pound into the floor to her left. Rolling onto her side, she dared only the quickest glance behind her and felt her eyes widen at the sight that greeted her. The wolf growled and snarled, distracted in its pursuit only a few steps away from her, tossing its head and snapping its teeth at the assault of books that hailed down from the balcony railing, colliding into its hide with a fierce accuracy and sizable force. Damn, that girl had a good arm. Through the haze of adrenaline, she dimly realised that this was the second time the hostile young woman had spared her from the grasp of certain death.

Yet Willow barely had enough time to absorb the scene before she abruptly swung her gaze away and quickly reached out a hand. She gritted her teeth against the burning pressure that welled up through her body, reaching with her mind and fighting to control the potential power that stung her fingertips. The magic answered her. As soon as she felt the cool weight of metal fly into her waiting grip, she instantly twisted onto her back and leaned up, sighting the gun with a tense but steady hand. In the same moment, the wolf turned and lunged back towards her, great paws thudding heavily against the floor, jaws wide and a terrible snarl in its throat. Willow didn't blink. Squeezing the trigger and unconsciously bracing for the familiar recoil, she shot Oz dead in the chest.

The wolf gave a high pitched whine of distress that tore her apart inside as it crumpled to the floor. A violent tremble rocked the animal, making it twitch and whimper before finally falling still under the tranquiliser dart. Willow's heart was still beating too hard and too fast to be healthy as she scrambled back and pulled herself to a shaky stand, her eyes never leaving the fallen creature at her feet. He looked so small all of a sudden, rendered vulnerable and unprotected and left so very _alone_ in the darkness. She felt her heart crack against her ribs with pain and resisted the urge to glance away. God, she _hated _seeing him like this. It just wasn't right.

She felt Annie cautiously walk over to join her, but couldn't summon the strength to raise her head in acknowledgment. For a moment they both just looked down at the inert form of their friend in subdued silence, taking the time to regain a regular rhythm over their breathing. Anything to avoid looking at each other, anything to delay dealing with all the unresolved issues and contradictions that lay there.

"Not a bad shot," the young woman mumbled grudgingly at last, almost under her breath.

Willow felt a ghost of a smile pass over her lips, but the memory was bittersweet. "Not my first time," she said quietly.

After another beat of shared silence, she heard Annie sigh and finally steeled herself to look up and away from Oz. Still avoiding each other's eyes, both girls glanced around the state of the library and winced.

"I… I suppose we should get him back into the cage?" Willow ventured reluctantly.

There was a grim set to the other woman's mouth as she nodded silently, her face twisting in a wry grimace. "Grab a limb."

Between the two of them, they managed to drag and heave the large animal back into the broken cage, Willow flinching as she accidently toed him in the ribs a few times in their efforts. An unconscious wolf was extremely heavy and difficult to manoeuvre, and she had quickly learned that it never got any easier.

Once they had him settled as comfortably as they could, the uneasy allies suddenly found themselves plunged into the crushing quiet of the aftermath. Annie withdrew back to the library floor without a backward glance, but Willow didn't even notice as she instantly dropped to her knees beside the wolf, her anxious eyes sweeping over his form before locking on the slight but steady rise and fall of his chest. Reaching out almost tentatively, she buried trembling fingers into the tough grey sea of his coat, fighting to keep a reign on the assault of emotions that blocked her throat and stole her voice. Tenderly, she ran her hands over the wolf's shoulder and down his chest, biting her lip as she found the point of the dart that she had embedded in his flesh, almost lost within the thicket of fur that covered the powerful muscles underneath. Bracing her palm against his ribs, she gently eased the drugged needle out of his body with steady and practised fingers. Once removed she laid it aside, as far away from them as she could physically reach, before placing her hand over the invisible wound on his chest, stroking her fingertips lightly over his heart in silent regret and apology. She cast a nervous glance back to his face but the wolf didn't stir under her ministrations, lost to the fog of chemicals that coursed through his blood.

She vaguely registered the sounds of items being shunted about and carelessly shoved back onto tables and shelves. Willow knew she should feel bad for not helping with the clear up, but just the thought of leaving his side made her stomach knot up and fingers seize tighter into the warm pelt under her palms. She knew it was a selfish and irrational impulse, but it was one she didn't have the strength to fight anymore. Her legs felt numb, her energy waning rapidly in the retreat of adrenaline, and she doubted she could have stood just then even if she tried. There was the murmur of a voice from somewhere within the library, followed by the click of a phone, but Willow found herself losing her grasp on measurable time as the minutes ticked on around them.

Seconds could have stretched into hours for all she knew.

Annie's gaze flickered in her direction with a furtive regularity, observing in silence as she loitered across the room, keeping a wary distance. Every so often she would pause in her compulsive tidying up as if unable to help herself, casting a disapproving eye over the girl who sat cradling the wolf's limp form in the broken book cage. Her brow would furrow darkly, her lips pursing like she wanted to comment, but Willow couldn't care less at whatever unspoken thoughts were going through the other girl's head. All she cared about was being close enough to ensure his heart was still beating, to feel the burning heat of his body and soft growl of his sleeping breath.

With infinitely gentle movements, she shuffled closer and carefully pulled the wolf's head into her lap, relishing the warm and heavy weight against her body as if it were the only anchor holding her together in this cold and foreign world. The only thing keeping her from drowning in the unknown. It felt like it had been _years _since she had been this close to him, able to hold him with all the fierceness in her heart, and it felt unbelievable good just to_ touch_ him again. To prove to herself that he was really real and whole, that he was still with her… even in some small way. For the first time in so very long, Willow felt a calming sense of contentment ebb over her, a soothing reprieve that she drank in gratefully. The emotional relief swamped her with exhaustion, almost dragging her down where she sat, her body huddling protectively over the animal in her arms.

Only when she heard the library doors swing open some time later did she finally tear her focus away from Oz. Blinking blearily, unaware that she had been softly crying, she raised a hand to brush away the tracks from her cheeks and glanced up to see a dishevelled Giles rush anxiously into the room. Annie moved over to meet him, their expressions equally grim as their lips moved in a tense conversation that was too fast for her to follow. She quickly lowered her gaze back to wolf beside her as she felt their gazes turn in her direction, not ready to face the questions and hard concern in Giles's eyes just yet. Willow had had enough of impossible confrontations for one night. She let the sound of their voices wash over her but didn't even try to listen, her attention lost once more on the werewolf that lay slumped across her lap.

Annie took her leave in usual brisk fashion not long afterward, not keen to hang around a moment longer than she had to and unwilling to reveal or explain the details of her clash with Willow. Awkward quiet lingered in the wake of her exit as Giles cast his gaze over the battered state of his library with a weary sigh. It was by no means the first time his beloved books had been caught up in the furore of a battle for survival and it would certainly not be the last – the librarian had resigned himself to that expectation a long time ago. He laid his palm down affectionately on top of the pile of texts that had been hastily stacked up on the countertop, as if drawing a tenuous sense of comfort from the dusty pages under his hand. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a moment to try and order his thoughts, to digest the haphazard facts he had managed to glean from a more than usually cagey Annie during their brief exchanges. The young woman had been far from forthcoming on the phone, informing him only of the dramatic turn of events in her usual clipped way before assuring him of their safety – and he had failed to gather much more insight upon his return to the school.

'_Okay, so the world didn't exactly end, but I figured you'd appreciate a heads up anyway.'_

Taking in the state of the library, some things were fairly obvious. Giles turned his head towards the book cage once more, a curious and worried frown creasing his expression. Other aspects however, were far more opaque.

Willow's head was bent over the wolf, a fall of tangled red hair veiling her face from his concerned gaze. The sight of her close proximity to the animal did nothing to calm the nervous fear that piped up from the back of his mind. Unconscious or not, a werewolf was still an incredibly dangerous beast to be around, and Giles was not at all comfortable with the way the teenager sat so willingly close to the creature in her arms. She must know what Oz was by now, and the Watcher had no doubt that she was smart enough to be aware of all the risks and danger that came with such a curse, and yet she made no motion of intending to let go of him anytime soon. If anything, she seemed utterly unperturbed by the threat the wolf embodied, content to quietly hold him in an embrace that felt strangely intrusive to witness.

His brows drew together as Giles thought back to Annie's brief words of explanation, of how the young witch had shot the fearsome animal at almost point blank range – with perfect aim and without hesitation. Clearly she was no stranger to this deadly ritual and she had to have some skill to be able to bring down a wolf like that. Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning to understand the fresh connections and theories that struggled to push their way through his sleep-deprived mind, unsure what to make of this new development or how to possibly proceed.

Still rather at a loss for how to even begin, Giles cleared his throat pointedly and watched her give a small jerk as she drew her attention up in his direction at last. She raised her head from where she sat curled up next to the wolf upon the library floor and blinked at him dully, and it seemed to take her a moment to really see him. Concerned sympathy immediately broke the Watcher's resolve as her gaze met his and he got the chance to properly take in her appearance for the first time. The poor child was drained, physically and emotionally, and it was painfully clear she was in no state to endure further stress tonight.

Letting out a deep breath, Giles pulled off his glasses and dropped his gaze in tired submission. "I – I'm going to call Jenny," he said finally, rubbing his thumb and index finger across his eyes with a grimace. "She really should know you're safe."

Willow winced guiltily. "Giles…" Her voice cracked as if unaccustomed to use and she had to try again before she could get the words out. She met his face imploringly. "Please, please tell her… I'm sorry."

Giles studied her for a moment before offering a solemn nod in acknowledgement. She watched him disappear into the office before turning her attention back to the animal she clung tightly to, so very grateful for the chance to finally be alone with him. Releasing a shaky breath, she leaned down and hugged the unfeeling wolf with all the strength she could summon, wrapping him up in her embrace as best she could despite their awkward positions. It was the first real opportunity she'd had to let her guard down around him, the closest she had been to him ever since that terrible night in the library that had changed her life forever – and she wasn't prepared to give it up. Not yet. The aching void in her heart suddenly twisted anew, reaching out for something that was so close yet always just out of reach. The force of it caught her by surprise, making her stifle a sob as she realised just how much she still _missed _him. Even though he was physically here, even though she could see and speak to him every day, the pained grief never went away. To be denied all the moments she had taken for granted, to draw close to him just because she wanted to, to take his hand, to lean against the warmth of his body or steal a kiss – it had taken its toll on her. Willow closed her eyes and clenched her hands around fistfuls of thick fur, gripping with all the fear that he would be wrenched from her life all over again. Her palm slid over his ribs again and the tension slowly eased out of her body as she drank in the steady, thudding rhythm of his heartbeat under her fingertips – the gentle sound a lullaby of comfort to her lonely soul.

After a long moment, she drew back and let her gaze travel over him with a soft glow of wondrous curiosity, a tender smile touching the corners of her lips. Loving fingers stroked absently through the subtle patterns in his pelt, over his ears and down his neck, unafraid of the jaw of deadly teeth resting against her legs that had so nearly ended her life this night. He was beautiful, the wolf. Terrifying, dangerous and daunting, yes – but undeniably graceful and dignified in bearing, intelligent and deeply powerful. All lean, sinewy muscles, piercing eyes and flowing agility. Full of warmth and strength, secrets and contradictions, he was a creature of haunting wild beauty. Her mouth tugged in affection as she brushed her hand over the top of his head, observing how the tangled tufts there seemed to stick up in little spikes almost like his human hair. Her gaze drifted down his front legs to the huge paws that lay limp and heavy now, sheathing unfathomably sharp claws, and a chill coursed down her spine as she recalled just how close she had come to meeting her end there.

"You keep trying to kill me," she muttered with a wry smile, shaking her head. "Why do I put up with you?" Leaning down, she pressed a kiss between the ears of the sleeping wolf, lingering for as long as she dared before forcing herself to pull away. _Her wolf._ Willow heard the little voice that murmured defiantly at the back of her head and found she didn't have the heart to correct it, so she just sat back and let it comfort her.

"Willow."

She started from her reverie as a tired but firm voice spoke up from across the room. Looking over, she saw Giles watching her almost sadly from the library floor, his gaze flickering between her and the wolf with wary concern.

"I think you should come out now."

"No."

The word left her before she could stop herself and she mentally cringed as she realised how rude she sounded. Quickly offering an abashed smile, she rushed to amend her curt statement.

"I mean… I'm okay."

Giles sighed as he walked over, rubbing his fingertips into his brow as if warding off a headache. "You have to understand, I realise he's sedated, but it's still too –"

Yet the girl shook her head resolutely, cutting him off before he could finish, and the Watcher didn't fail to miss the way she tightened her hold on the wolf almost possessively.

"It's fine, honestly," she assured, a strained note of pleading entering her voice.

Giles frowned softly, vividly reminded of just how adamant Oz had been about keeping his secret from this girl, the fearful desperation that had lurked behind those guarded eyes as the boy implored to the Watcher with that same determination. He let out a deep breath. The Watcher was _not_ looking forward to the impending morning's revelations or the added tensions it would bring. Giles would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about how the boy would handle this turn of events – Oz was hard to read at the best of times and all too prone to shutting people out when things got emotionally rough. And yet, as so much seemed to lately, he couldn't help feeling that the outcome would ultimately depend on Willow. He could only hope that she might reach the troubled werewolf where the others had failed.

He knew the boy would resent him for not keeping his word, for not keeping his secret from the one person he had most feared finding out, and the thought made the Watcher recoil in guilt. But for better or worse, it couldn't be helped now. Whatever they might each have wished or hoped for, it seemed fate had other plans.

"Willow," he spoke gently now, coming to stand in the doorway to the book cage as he held her gaze with resigned eyes. "We really need to get the cage secured before dawn."

She hesitated, looking so torn at the prospect that Giles felt a wave of affectionate sympathy punch a bruise through his heart. But he forced himself to push on regardless, refusing to let sentiment overrule better judgment. He offered her a kind smile of encouragement. "Come on."

Willow looked down to the wolf for a long moment, something unreadable in her eyes despite the conflicted pain etched within her features, before slowly and carefully extraditing herself and moving to stand up on slightly numb legs. Giles gave a small nod before retreating back into the library, leaving the teenager to follow him out of the cage, more than a little reluctantly and with many a backwards glance.

Bowing her head, Willow kept her uncharacteristic silence more out of sheer exhaustion than anything else as the two of them worked together to manoeuvre the battered cage door back into place as best they could, which mainly involved propping it up and pushing the card catalogue stand in front of it. It was highly unlikely the tranquiller would wear off before sun up, but it was always better to take precautions, especially in this Sunnydale where the fates seemed particularly ill tempered. Giles would repair it properly come morning.

Catching her attempting to hide a huge yawn behind her hand, the librarian smiled and suggested perhaps it would be a prudent idea for them to follow Oz's fine example and try to grab a few hours of sleep themselves. Willow started to nod her agreement but was soon overtaken by another yawn that left her weaving slightly on her feet. The Watcher knew it was hardly an ideal situation, he would much rather have driven her back to Jenny's and allow her to recover properly from the night's ordeals, but Giles was nothing if not practical. They couldn't leave Oz unattended, even sedated, and he strongly suspected that the young witch would reject any such idea out of hand anyway. It was clear that she was determined to stay, though he shuddered to think of the risks she had taken in coming there in the first place. At least here, he could keep an eye on both of them.

_/o/_

Pulling up a chair opposite the cage, Willow tried to find the most unobstructed view through the bars as she listened to the shuffling sounds of furniture that came from the office over her shoulder. She was glad Giles had finally agreed to her insistence that he take the couch, and she couldn't help but smile as she reflected back on his futile encounter with her infamous _resolve_ face. Out of all the people in her life, she had used that particular tactic on Giles the least, preferring to reason with his logic and intellect, but it was nice to know it was still effective. Alternate reality or not.

Satisfied at last, Willow settled down in the large wooden chair and tucked her feet up. Propping her chin in her palm, she let her gaze wander over the mass of fur and limbs that was the sleeping wolf just beyond the bars of the book cage, lost in thought.

Two worlds, two realities. Two very different histories had played out across these dimensions, as separate and independent of each other as siblings parted at birth. And yet, she kept coming across a series of subtle counter-points, parallels and flashes of convergence. Certain turns of the road that were fixed on the map, regardless of every other divergence that took its fancy. Willow felt like there should be something comforting in that tenuous sense of connection with the world she once knew, but instead she found only heartache.

She'd been with him from the beginning – before.

Willow had always known about the lurking animal he struggled with inside, almost from the same moment he had found out himself. She'd always soothed the hardest moments with silent understanding and physical assurance, always shared the fear and doubt with him, always been there when he woke up. But not here.

She didn't know how long he had lived with the curse in this reality, but the burden and resentment seemed to weigh so much heavier on his shoulders now than she had ever seen before. That simmering anger and darkness that she had glimpsed in him in those rare unguarded moments; the cool distance he unconsciously pushed at everyone around him; the way he absorbed himself in the fight for other people's lives at the expense of making one of his own – suddenly it all made that much more sense. Obviously the others here were aware of the situation and supported him in much the same way the Scooby Gang had, but Willow knew only too well that Oz would only let them help with restraining the animal he so hated becoming. When it came to the boy, he didn't let anyone get too close. She knew how much he resented that part of himself, even though he hardly ever spoke of it and tended to dismiss any uncomfortable conversation with his usual dry stoicism. It was a dark aspect of his life that he closed off as much as he could, always fighting and suppressing what he couldn't control until it simply refused to be caged any longer – breaking free in a savage fury, splitting the clouds to howl at the moon soaked night with such anguish it broke her heart.

It frustrated and worried her no end, but it was the one part of his life where Oz's trademark nonchalant ease vanished and ruthless stubbornness took over. He had always believed he could handle it by himself. He never wanted to entangle his friends with the beast inside him, as far as he was concerned, it was his curse to bear and it was a fate he had resigned himself to. She knew that – he had done it with her too, but to a lesser extent than anyone else. Willow shut her eyes and pushed back the welling tears, biting her tongue to hold them at bay.

_He'd been alone._

The thought ate her up inside. Resolve suddenly whipped through Willow, snapping like fire and settling into a furnace of determination in the centre of her chest. This world was cruel enough, it had taken almost everything from those who dared to fight for it, and she would be damned if she let it break them. Willow vowed to herself that whatever happened when he woke up – she wasn't leaving him alone to that darkness anymore. No matter how long it took, she would make him see that he was worthy of so much more than he was denying himself.

"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured softly. Her bright eyes burned with conviction as they swept tenderly over the slumped form in the book cage next to her. "I promise."

**~o~**


	30. Chapter Twenty Eight

Wow, only three months between updates this time. Hey, at least I'm getting a little bit better! I apologise, I do appreciate how frustrating it is. Big thanks to everyone who came back to this story and _huge_ special thanks to those who took the time to review and PM and let me know what they thought. It really does make all the difference to know that people are still interested in this fic. Thanks again, and hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**~o~**

Oz felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the inside of his head.

A groggy groan escaped his throat as he struggled to rouse from the pressure of disorientation that pushed down on his mind, the dead weight of sleep that settled like lead in his limbs. Finally cracking his eyes open, he immediately wished he hadn't as blades of sharp sunlight splintered his vision, aggravating the thumping pain against his skull.

Pressing a hand to his eyes, he wearily fought the faint nausea into submission once more and released a muffled moan into his palm. He knew this headache. He'd woken up with this wretched hangover before. This was a very _bad_ headache.

He winced as he pushed himself up from the cool marble, gingerly reaching over to feel the fresh bruise that stung across his shoulder blade and down his spine. Oz gritted his teeth through a grimace. True, he'd had a lot worse, but it was still going to hurt like hell for the rest of the day. Yet all the protests of his beaten body were momentarily silenced as his distracted gaze moved beyond the boundaries of the cage, his eyes alighting upon a sight that made his heart stop dead in his chest.

A frown passed over his face, knitting his brows together, the only breaking ripple to betray the storm of emotions that crashed through him. A painfully familiar figure was curled up in a wooden chair on the other side of the bars, only a short distance away from him but far enough to still be considerate of personal space. The early morning sunlight that filled the library glittered gently off the wine-red locks that fell across her sleeping face, bathing her pale skin with a soft golden glow and making her look even more like a lingering figment from a dream. And for a moment, Oz truly wasn't sure if he wanted the illusion to shatter or not.

_She had seen._

Fearful confusion filled his veins, drowning him in anger and despair until he could barely think straight. _Willow._ What the hell was going on? She had seen him for what he really was, in all slobbering, man-eating glory, and – and she hadn't run away? She'd… stayed? All night by the look of it. But that didn't make any sense. Oz stared through the bars that divided them, his gaze drawing over her features with an almost helpless compulsion, straining to understand. Her head was tilted towards the cage, her body angled in his direction and cheek slumped against her hand, as if she had been watching over him when sleep finally crept up on her. There was nothing defensive or guarded in her posture that he could sense. Instead everything in her body language seemed at ease, despite her awkward poise in the rather uncomfortable chair she had chosen. Indeed, she looked deeply peaceful in her slumber, as if soothed by some unseen comfort.

It was all… _wrong._

His entire body ached but Oz still forced himself to his feet, reaching clumsily to retrieve his clothes out of habit more than any conscious thought. He dressed quickly and silently, his gaze never straying from the sleeping redhead for more than a few seconds at a time. Slipping through the gap between the door and bookcase with all the care that in his newly regained human form allowed, he stepped out of the cage.

Oz felt his heart seize in his chest with an entirely different bout of feelings as he let his gaze wander over her face, the conflicting instincts strong and confusing and no less painful. Moving slowly, as if watching himself through a dream, he reached out and gently stroked a lock of hair from her eyes. His fingers barely skimmed her cheek, but he almost shuddered in the feel of the warm smooth skin that ran under his thumb, confirming that this beautiful nightmare was indeed so real.

As he did so, she gave a soft murmur and pressed ever so lightly into his touch, following the brush of his fingers unconsciously. Oz felt the rumble of the wolf from the depths of his chest, still too close to the surface for his comfort – the echo of the animal freshly banished from his skin but ever present in his bones. He could feel the dark and primal current pulling inside him, submerged beneath the waters of his human mind once more, trapped and hidden but not gone. _Never gone._ The wolf's reaction made him start, responding to something he couldn't see, and he pulled back with a frown.

Across the room, a tired and troubled gaze followed the tentative gesture with an equal sense of foreboding. Giles's brow creased in fresh lines of concern and he sighed under his breath, bracing himself for the undoubtedly hard decisions that lay ahead. It seemed things were quite possibly even more complicated than he had suspected. Finally, he cleared his throat and announced his presence, perhaps unnecessarily. After all, not many things could sneak up on Oz unawares around the full moon.

"Good morning."

The boy gave a thin smile, barely there. "Is it?"

He didn't glance away from her face, speaking low enough so as to not rouse Willow. Yet she still stirred at the muttered words, a small sleepy sound escaping her, and Oz quickly moved away. She settled down again almost immediately, adjusting her head against her arms and falling quiet with a deep breath. She really must be exhausted, and Oz couldn't help but feel bitterly grateful. He was loathed to wake her until he at least had some semblance of a grip on his emotions and thoughts. Until he knew just what exactly he had woken up to.

He turned towards where Giles hovered in the doorway of the office, his expression carefully impassive. The Watcher dropped his shoulders with a long exhale, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose in an awkward habit that the student easily recognised.

"Yes, well, all things considered. Things could've been…I mean what with… Well, you –"

"I got out," Oz finished in an empty voice, seeing no point in avoiding the obvious.

Giles gave him an apologetic glance, trying in vain to read the tone behind the deadpan statement. "So it would appear."

Oz shifted his gaze to behind the librarian, wincing inwardly as he took in the scene beyond with a needle sharp perception. "Sorry about your office."

Giles shook his head, quick to assuage such concerns. "Things are replaceable," he said firmly, offering a tired smile as he placed a reassuring hand on Oz's shoulder. He felt the teenager stiffen subtly under the contact, his jaw tensing and eyes hardening behind those familiar shutters. Giles sighed at the silent resentment that tensed the student before him, though he knew there was nothing that could be done to help it now. Of course the boy was angry. It was all too easy to overlook sometimes with his stoic demeanour, but just because Oz could control his emotions far better than the average teenager (or Tibetan monk for that matter), that didn't mean they weren't there.

Oz glanced around, frowning as something occurred to him from the jumbled recesses of his foggy mind. "Annie?" he asked at last, worry breaking through his tone as he contemplated the conspicuous absence, all too aware that she was the one who had been conscripted into wolf-watch last night.

"She's fine," Giles assured, to the boy's great relief. "She went home after I arrived. I'm afraid you have her to thank for some of your aches and pains this morning."

Oz arched a wry brow. Well, it wouldn't be the first time she'd kicked his ass. He knew that Annie was very capable of handling herself and as much as he hated the thought of her being in danger because of him, he was deeply grateful she had been there when things had gone wrong – prepared and experienced to protect the others and do what needed to be done. He dreaded to think of the consequences if she hadn't been there to act without hesitation.

"At least her aim is getting better," he remarked dryly, absently rubbing at the bruise blooming over his heart from the impact of the tranquiliser shot.

Giles dropped his gaze, pushing at his glasses with a distracted agitation, his words more than a little reluctant. "Well, actually that… that wasn't her."

Oz's expression remained inscrutable for a long moment as his mind worked furiously to process this new assault of revelations.

_No._

Sickening numbness crashed over him, almost making him dizzy. How was that even possible? Annie and Giles were the only ones who had ever successfully taken down the wolf in the full force of the moon, and even then it had taken several close calls before they could do it in one shot. The fact that _Willow _had… He shook his head, stepping back with a grimace as he tried to gather his exploding fears under control. She'd been _here _when – when he broke out? It hardly bore thinking about. The fact that she'd had to shoot him down and lock him up again hardly boded well, and for the life of him, Oz could not fathom why the hell she had stuck around after such an encounter. Why hadn't she wanted to get as far away as possible from the monster he had just unleashed on her? He pressed his eyes shut in frustration, desperate to wish away the horrors of his rampaging thoughts. Would he _ever_ figure this girl out? Apprehension writhed uncomfortably in his stomach, shaking him far deeper than he had experienced in a long time. Just what the hell had happened last night?

He didn't look up, instead addressing the floor under his feet as he concentrated on channelling every shred of composure he had left into the effort of keeping his breathing even. "Why is she _here?_" he uttered softly, grinding the question out through gritted teeth.

It was a moment before Giles hesitantly answered him.

"Maybe you should ask her yourself."

Oz snapped his head up only to see that the Watcher had moved his attention over his shoulder, back into the library behind him. He quickly turned around to see Willow stirring from her place by the cage, awkwardly uncoiling her limbs from the stiff wooden chair, her gaze fixed on the young wolf with a nervous yet bewitching intensity.

The silence that fell upon the room in the heartbeat that followed was the possibly the heaviest Giles had ever experienced.

Oz didn't move a muscle, seemingly frozen in place, expression etched in stone once more as he unwillingly locked eyes with the girl across the floor. Willow opened her mouth, struggling with the urge to speak but confronted with a lack of words. Her eyes darted for a moment and she caught Giles's gaze where he stood just behind the boy, observing the scene with equal unease. He immediately cleared his throat, quick to see the looks exchanged between the teenagers and taking the hint that they clearly wanted some privacy for this difficult exchange. Putting aside his teacup on the surface of the counter, he announced, "Well, yes… I think I'll stretch my legs." Willow gave an almost invisible nod of thanks in his direction and Oz averted his gaze away from them both, but otherwise the words got no acknowledgment.

Willow listened to the muffled thud of the door as it swung shut behind the Watcher, and suddenly felt crushed by the oppressive silence. She didn't like it, nor did she know quite how to cope with the strained verbal void that she now found herself in. His quiet had always been such a precious part of their relationship, of their love, back in her own world. It was his communication, their secret to share, her harbour of balance and comfort. But this silence was different. This silence was damning.

"How… how do you feel?" Her gaze shone with concern as she watched him across the room, struggling to open up the conversation when his stance was anything but inviting.

"I've been better."

His voice was calm and cold as he kept his distance, refusing to meet her eyes. Willow flinched but forced herself to press on. "Yeah, I suppose so," she muttered as she pushed herself up from the chair. Swallowing, she took a tentative step forward, approaching the delicate tension with steady movements and words. "I'm – I'm sorry how this ended up. With me shooting you and all."

They'd had this conversation before.

_A small smile crossed his lips, tinged with disbelief. "That's okay. I'm sorry I almost ate you."_

Willow pulled back from the memory of their first kiss with the sinking realisation that there was no lightness in his manner now, however forced. No reprieve from the weight of loathing that pressed down on him. There was no will to even pretend. She saw now that this Oz did not share his parallel self's sense of dry irony over this subject. Bitterness clouded his piercing eyes, the dark and conflicted anger all too evident on his usually stoic features. He sighed and turned away from her, running a hand across his neck in an uncharacteristic show of restlessness.

"You shouldn't have been here."

The hard reproach in his voice took her aback for a moment, sharp and accusing and full of confused resentment. Again she was struck by the differences in their personalities, the effects and changes wrought by the tragic twists of this reality, and she fought against the encroaching sense of helplessness. It was so different from what she had known. The truth was that it stung badly to hear such words from him, though she tried valiantly not to let it show. This seemed to be a recurring echo of this world, and one that was getting harder and harder for her to shrug off. But that didn't stop her from trying with all her might.

"What were you even doing here?"

"I –"

He was pacing now, and the sight was so unusual that Willow lost her voice for a moment. She'd never seen Oz so furious. His crucial control was breaking and it pained her beyond words to see it.

"You have _no_ idea how dangerous that was," he snapped curtly. "If anything had happened –"

"But it didn't," she interjected, her voice firm as she stepped up to him, trying to get him to stop moving and just face her. "I'm fine, see? We're all okay. There's no point beating yourself up about everything that _might _have happened."

He shook off her assurances, beyond the reach of reason for possibly the first time in his adult life. "_Stop,_" he ordered, almost pleadingly. "You don't understand…" He gripped the roots of his hair in frustration, as if battling to form the words, as if they were hurting him from the inside out.

"Oz –"

She reached for him out of instinct but he pulled away violently, his entire body tensing in pain as if her touch burned.

"I could have _killed you!_" he burst out, the desperate words echoing off the high walls of the library like an anguished howl.

Willow started in shock at the furious exclamation. She couldn't remember the last time Oz had raised his voice in anger. She bit her tongue as she stared at him, watching as he struggled to reign in his harsh breathing. What could she say to that? It was the truth. He had come within inches of ending her life last night, and she saw now so very clearly what that would have done to him. In the second he raised his gaze to hers, all remains of composure left his face and unconcealed, consuming fear filled his eyes. He would have never forgiven himself. It would have destroyed him. Willow felt terrible. Once again, she had blundered into a critical decision and failed to grasp the consequences for the people she loved. She had been curious and stubborn and ignorant of the heartache it would unleash. She had been selfish.

Oz abruptly turned away, sighing deeply as he dropped onto the steps. He hunched over his knees, burying his head in his hands, as if suddenly defeated by it all. "Oh god…"

Willow hesitated for a moment before slowly crossing the floor, moving cautiously to sit down next to him. "Oz…" She trailed off uncertainly, determined to somehow make things better but unsure how to break him out of such a crippling cycle of guilt. Throughout all the history of their past relationship, she had never seen his temperate nature so broken, his fear so exposed. It was an honesty she was unfamiliar with and one she didn't know quite how to handle.

Her hand hovered over his shoulder but didn't make contact, as if held at bay by an invisible barrier, the easy intimacy of touch no longer open to her. That damned distance was back and it made her want to scream in frustration. Her body cried out for the comfort of his, but she harshly suppressed the selfish urge. She settled instead for wrapping her arms under her knees, locking her hands tight together against the pull of instinct that rebelled against being so close to him yet denied the simple act of comfort. His body language was closed off and she had no right to force her way through. Willow looked away, letting him reign in his control, knowing he was rarely comfortable letting people see him at the mercy of such violent and unrestrained emotions. It was a trust that had to be earned.

She took a deep breath and tried again. "You can't hold yourself responsible for things you can't control."

A bitter smile shadowed his lips as he stared down at the library floor. "Beg to differ," he muttered.

Willow chanced a glance at him, her brow furrowing in frustration. She wanted to seize his shoulders and shake some sense into him but reluctantly realised that wouldn't have much effect upon his stubbornness, so opted for a bit more diplomacy.

"It wasn't your fault," she said softly, refusing to let him wallow in self loathing like this. "You weren't in control. And the wolf…the wolf was just doing what comes naturally, following instinct. It doesn't make you, _either _of you… bad."

Oz frowned as he finally looked at her, surprise fighting over the guilt-ridden fear and anger that stormed through him. He could see the tender sincerity in her eyes – she really believed that, and that only confused him more. It was the first time he'd ever heard anyone speak about the wolf so gently, and it rocked him down to the core. How could this girl hold such understanding and compassion for the beast that had almost hunted her to death? He couldn't reconcile it in his head, and it only served to re-enforce the painful fact that she wasn't a part of this world, this hard and cruel reality that he called home. Not really. That kind of open and gentle heart didn't belong in this world, could never survive here, and that scared the hell out of him. He felt his own heart drop into his stomach, leaving only an icy void behind, as he realised just how different she truly was from them. This place would ultimately destroy her, everything good and kind and sweet in her, and Oz didn't think he could bear to live with that.

"And you're right," she went on quietly, "maybe I shouldn't have been here." She looked up and met his bright, almost glowing eyes which were intensely focused on her, feeling her heartbeat quicken at the echo of the wolf that stirred there. Her voice was firm but gentle as she held his gaze. "But I don't regret that I am."

She let the weight of her words settle between them, understanding veiled behind truth, as they sat in quiet for a moment. Willow watched the reflection of sadness that pooled in his eyes before he quickly looked away, leaving her stumbling to follow the subtle force of his mood shifts.

"How can you…" He gave a slight shudder but forced himself to continue, however quietly. "How can you stand to be near me?" Willow felt her heart constrict in painful empathy at the despondency in his voice. "How can you forgive me?"

_Because I love you._

Reluctantly swallowing down the aching words, she smiled gently and instead opted for an answer which was no less true. "Because there's nothing to forgive. Except, perhaps, for not telling me sooner," she teased.

"What did you expect me to say?" he retorted sullenly. "Knowing doesn't make the curse any safer to be around. You're still better off away from me." He looked off into the distance, a dark cloud on the horizon that only he could see. "Everyone is."

She sighed under her breath. "You're still so stubborn."

Oz turned his head and she nearly faltered under the perception of his sharp emerald gaze that fell on her. He seemed to study her in silence for a long moment; his features carefully blank once more under that thoughtful expression she remembered so well.

"You knew all along," he said at last.

Oz was nothing if not pragmatic, and there was a history and familiarity behind her manner that he was only just beginning to understand. There was nothing accusing in the words, only an acceptance and evenness of tone that concealed all the turmoil of the thoughts underneath. It was a fact, a realisation, an acknowledgement.

She seemed taken aback by his statement.

"I – I didn't know for sure," she admitted haltingly, "but I suspected. We, we were… close." She shrugged evasively, her eyes dropping from his. "Before."

Oz frowned as he contemplated her answer.

"In your world… I was a wolf there too?" he asked, a little in disbelief. It was something that hadn't ever occurred to him until now.

She raised her eyes to his almost reluctantly and Oz blinked at the intense burst of sadness that sparkled in her gaze, her reply almost too soft to catch. "Yes."

"And I told you?"

"Well, not exactly." She glanced down at the step between them, a ghost of a smile on her lips at the bittersweet memory. "I kinda caught you at the wrong time of the month and you sort of… showed me." She saw him wince out of the corner of her eye and quickly pressed on, shifting to face him again and tackling him with the full force of her _resolve_ mode. "So you see, it's nothing I haven't seen and done many times before. I've gone through a lot of moons with you and lived to tell about it, so don't go getting all broody and self-sacrificing on me now. You're not the only one who has a couple of bad hormonal days a month, you know." A reluctant smile flickered on his lips and she grinned teasingly. "Besides, I was never very good at staying away from trouble, so why start now."

He held her gaze for a long moment before letting out a deep breath and dropping his head. Willow took that as a grudging submission to the persuasive power of her logic, and felt herself slump slightly in relief. Yet all too soon, like a lone candle flame swallowed up by the darkness, the faint smile died from his lips as his expression turned pensive once more. They sat in quiet for a few moments before he finally spoke up again.

"So now you know my big, dark secret."

"Yeah… I guess so. Do you want to know mine?" she tried to joke.

He caught her eyes seriously, sharp but without accusation. "Are you ready to tell it?"

Willow hesitated, caught off guard. Searching his face, she opened her mouth but was interrupted before she could even try to form an answer. Both teenagers turned as the familiar murmur of voices heralded the return of the adults, giving them a split second of warning before the doors were pushed open and Giles and Jenny entered the library, deep in conversation as ever.

All discussion stopped however as the small group acknowledged each other in awkward silence. Giles seemed to cast a relieved glance over the children, apparently heartened and troubled by what he saw at the same time, before making his polite excuses and turning into his office. Willow flushed guiltily as Jenny's gaze fell on her, and quickly dropped her eyes, wishing she could shrink into the floor. Oz dipped his head in greeting but otherwise said nothing.

"Good morning," Jenny said at last, her voice calm and authoritative. Her teacher tone. She nodded to Oz before turning her attention to the redhead. "I brought something for you to change into before school starts."

Willow glanced up, blinking as she took in the duffel bag grasped in Jenny's hand. She was still groggy from her lack of sleep and reeling from the emotional confrontation she had just gone through, but she could recognise an out when she was given one. Jumping up to her feet, she cast a quick glance back at Oz before moving to dutifully take the bag, mumbling her thanks and still avoiding her friend's eye.

Oz watched Willow rush out of the library with a soft frown. Quick to pick up on the fresh tension that had entered the room and anxious for some breathing space, he stood up from the step and headed towards the doors himself, quietly announcing that he was going to get ready for class.

_/o/_

The locker room was quiet and empty as he slipped inside, and Oz was intensely grateful for the solitude. Pulling out the fresh change of clothes he always kept stored in school, he stripped off the outfit from yesterday and stepped under the jets of the shower. Bowing his head under the torrent of steamy water, he breathed in and out deeply and tried to drag his mind through the mire of confusion that filled his thoughts. And she had certainly given him a _lot _to think about.

Even knowing what he knew now, a part of him still couldn't get his head around Willow's reaction to all of this. She didn't hate him. She wasn't afraid of him. She didn't blame him… or the wolf. He ran a hand down his face, ignoring the burn of water that scorched his skin. It was against every human survival instinct and yet she had stayed by the side of a werewolf that had just attacked her in a blind fury, a creature that had so nearly been the death of her. It was a level of trust he just couldn't accept. He locked his jaw, his knuckles clenching in his hand. That kind of misplaced faith and naivety would only end up killing her in this town. Oz grimaced, his breath coming out in harsh pants as he washed away the last of the tranquilizer fog. _He_ had so nearly killed her. That wasn't the kind of thing you just _forgive._ He didn't deserve her mercy, her compassion or kindness. Why would she so willingly place herself in such danger? This wasn't even her world, her friends… He could have hurt her. And Annie. He could have cursed them or worse…

The confused frustration finally broke free as Oz slammed his fist into the cracked tiles of the cubicle. He instantly swore, hissing through his teeth and clutching his bruised knuckles as they stung under the misty water. Wow, that was _really_ stupid. And yet, he felt oddly better for it. Nothing distracts you from brooding like a little pain. A wry smile passed over his lips as he finally turned off the shower and stepped out, preparing to brace himself for the day and night still to come.

He still had seven hours of classes to get through after all.

_/o/_

Willow took a deep breath and tapped lightly on the office door. It was now or never, and she _really _didn't want to leave things like this. As much as she hated confrontation, she hated tension more. It was time to face the music.

"Come in."

She poked her head inside to see Jenny standing with her back to her, the teacher's hands moving in sure and neat movements as she tidied up the familiar clutter on Giles's desk. Willow hovered nervously in the doorway, twisting her hands into her jumper.

"Um, thanks for the clothes," she said awkwardly.

Jenny didn't stop or turn around, her gaze not lifting from the books and files in her hands. "You're welcome."

There was a strained pause as silence fell once more in the small office. She bit her lip, her voice small and worried.

"Are you mad at me?"

The other woman stilled without looking up, her back stiff. "Yes," she replied curtly.

Willow flinched at the disapproval in her voice, cursing herself for her rash and inconsiderate actions. Why did she seem to do nothing but hurt and upset people? But then Jenny sighed and abruptly turned around, catching the young witch in a hard hug that almost knocked the breath out of her. After blinking in surprise for a moment, Willow returned the embrace just as tightly, closing her eyes with a shaky exhale.

"Don't you _ever _scare me like that again," Jenny muttered fiercely, squeezing the girl in her arms with all the fear and worry that had kept her awake for most of the night. "What on earth possessed you?"

"I–I had to…know."

She knew it didn't make sense, an incoherent sentence mumbled into her friend's shoulder, but Jenny seemed to understand.

A sad sigh ruffled her hair, the words barely above a whisper. "What am I going to do with you?"

Willow wished she had an answer.

**~o~**


End file.
